Family Ties
by BarbaraKaterina
Summary: One of Harry's magical relatives is not dead, and he comes to get Harry from the Dursleys. How different will the life of the Boy-Who-Lived be if he actually gets to live, not only survive, before he goes to Hogwarts, and if he has a family he can rely on? /-/-/ AU, starts about half a year before chapter 2 of book 1.
1. The Boy Who Left

AN: Hello everyone...a new fic from me, a HP one this time. My inspiration's been all over the place lately, and I'm jumping from working on one story to working on another, but I have finished the first story arc of this one at least, so I can now post it without having to worry that I will leave you hanging in the middle of something unresolved (like I did with some of my other stories, ehm. Sorry about that.)

I think think it's fair to say that this story was probably influenced quite a lot by The Best Revenge by Arsinoe de Blassenville, my favourite "Harry's life changes when someone else gets him from the Dursleys" story. So go read that if you haven't.

Also, I have a favour to ask: could you please check out this survey about HP fanfiction? I need it for a paper I'm writing...it's fully anonymous. Thanks in advance! Here's the link (just take away the spaces), or you can find it on top of my profile page: forms/FQuqpzABTv

And of course, I don't own a thing. Or a character.

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Harry Potter was sweeping snow from the front lane of number four, Privet Drive when he noticed a stranger approaching the door. He obligingly moved out of the way, but instead of continuing, the stranger stopped when he saw him, and looked at him in a very curious fashion. Now that he could see him up close, Harry noticed that the man was very well dressed and seemed quite rich, if his fur-trimmed coat was anything to judge by.

He kept staring.

Harry was getting rather unnerved by the time he spoke, and then it turned to shock when the man said: "You are Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," he almost stammered.

"What are you doing out in this cold?" The stranger asked.

"Sweeping the path, sir."

Harry could almost sense the man refraining from rolling his eyes. "Yes, I can see that. But why is it you doing this? And in such flimsy clothes, too."

"It's my job to do it," Harry explained helpfully.

"Who says that?" The questions continued.

"My aunt, sir."

"Well, then I will simply have to have a word with your aunt," the man said and moved to approach the door.

"Oh no, please, sir, don't!" Harry begged. "I would get in so much trouble for complaining!"

"It appears, from what I hear, that it will rather be your aunt who will get in trouble." And Harry was powerless to stop him as he knocked on the door.

It was opened by Aunt Petunia, who took the stranger in with one look and put on her pleasantest smile as she said: "Good afternoon, may I help you?"

"I hope so. You are Petunia Dursley."

"Yes. And you are...?"

"Alduin Travers. May I come in?"

"Of course, Mr Travers, though I don't quite see..." Petunia trailed off, stepping back to allow the man entrance.

Curious, Harry followed inside. Aunt Petunia took her unexpected guest to the living room. "Can I get you some tea?"

"That would be pleasant, thank you," the stranger assented, taking off his gloves and sitting down.

"Boy!" Petunia shouted, noticing Harry in the hall. "Make tea for us."

As Harry bustled with the preparations, he heard the conversation from the living room. "I take it," the stranger was saying, "that the boy is not your son."

"No indeed. He's my orphaned nephew." The distaste in Petunia's voice was clear.

"I see." The man paused. "I confess I was surprised to see him working outside in such cold."

Harry could imagine Aunt Petunia shrugging as she said: "Some chores will do him no harm. He is so spoiled, always expecting to get everything for free!"

"Is he now." This time, Harry imagined a raised eyebrow on the man's face. He seemed like the type to raise eyebrows. "Has he done something particularly troubling recently?"

"Oh no, not especially. He is a generally troublesome boy."

"Because, you see," the man continued in a questioning tone, "I was wondering if this sweeping snow in so little clothes and preparing tea was a form of punishment."

Aunt Petunia paused. "I am sorry, sir," and her tone was sharper now, "but I still do not see what you are doing here – meaning no offense," she added at the end, on the off chance that he really was someone important.

"None taken," he replied, sounding almost amused. "You see..." he paused, and waited for Harry to come with the tea things before saying: "I am here because of Harry Potter."

Harry was astonished, and Petunia was immediately nervous and on her guard. "On what business?" She asked aggressively.

The man smiled a very tight smile. "I am his first cousin, once removed."

Harry's mouth fell open, and Aunt Petunia actually jumped up from her chair. "Are you...are you one of _them_?"

"I am unsure what you mean by that, but if you are asking whether I am a wizard, then yes, I certainly am."

Aunt Petunia actually shrieked. "Get out of my house!" She shouted then.

"My dear madam, I am afraid it won't be quite as easy. I have seen some disturbing things here, and I will not leave until they have been clarified." He turned to Harry. "Now, come here and tell me, what chores exactly are you expected to do?"

"It isn't too bad," Harry answered, not wanting to sound like he was whining. "I do the dishes and vacuum clean and do the garden, and I make breakfast, and I clean the bathrooms and wipe the dust."

"I see." The man appeared to ponder it. "And what about the other members of the household?"

"Well, Aunt Petunia cooks and does everything connected to the laundry and washes the floors and the windows, and does the shopping...that is all, I think." He paused. "Dudley or Uncle Vernon don't do any housework," he clarified. It seemed obvious to him, but perhaps the man didn't know.

"Thank you." Mr. Travers turned back to Aunt Petunia. "A little unequal, don't you think?"

"How I run things in my own house is none of your business," Petunia answered, but Harry could see she was worried.

"Now that is not entirely true," the man pointed out, again with that tight smile that contained very little mirth. "As I have said, I am Harry Potter's relative."

"If you don't like what we have done for him, you are welcome to take him and leave. We give him a roof over his head and keep him fed, he should be grateful to us." Harry privately thought that when it came to being kept fed, it wasn't so great, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Quite." The man turned back to Harry. "Your Aunt's suggestion has some merit, however. Would you be willing to leave with me?"

Harry hesitated. He hated it in Privet Drive, but even he knew one shouldn't just leave with strange men. "Are you really my cousin?"

"Yes. My mother was your father's aunt. Rowan Travers, née Potter."

Harry wondered what it would have been like to have an aunt from his father's side, not just Petunia and Marge, who wasn't really his aunt at all anyway. But there was something else that had caught his attention before. "And what did you mean by saying you were a wizard?"

The man blinked, then turned to Aunt Petunia. "You mean he doesn't know?"

Petunia bristled. "Certainly not, and if he is to stay under my roof, you will not tell him."

"Tell me what?" Now Harry was getting really curious.

"You heard your Aunt, Mr. Potter. I am afraid I cannot answer your question properly unless you agree with me...I can, however, show you." And before Aunt Petunia had time to do something, the stranger pulled out a thin piece of wood from under his jacket and waved it in the air – and suddenly he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Wow," Harry said, "how did you do that?"

The man almost smirked. "I'm afraid that explaining would violate your Aunt's direct instruction. You are free to make your own hypothesis, however."

"A magic trick, right?" He had never seen a magician before, but he had heard about them, naturally.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Perhaps another demonstration is in order?" And Harry felt himself rising in the air.

"Stop it!" Aunt Petunia shouted. "I will not have one of you in my house, I will not."

"Ah, my dear madam, but you already have, you have had for ages." Was it only Harry, or was there some malicious enjoyment in the man's tone?

"No!" Petunia's voice was becoming louder and louder. "We agreed, my husband and I, when we took him in, that he will get the nonsense out of him."

The man's features lost the last traces of good humour. "I see." He said. "Well, Mr. Potter, I believe it's time to make up your mind. Will you leave with me?"

"What happens if I do?" Harry asked, still unsure.

"Likely, you would move to my house," the man explained. "Apart from that, not much would have to change, at least for the following six months. Then, you would leave for your new school - Hogwarts."

"And living with you...what would it be like?"

"I cannot fully answer that, since it depends on you too. But you would have your own room, enough food and clothes, and if you wished me to, I would leave you alone."

Harry was undecided – could he really trust this man? But on the other hand, this seemed like too good an opportunity to pass. He might never have another chance to get out of Privet Drive in his life. He contemplated this, but before he got far, Aunt Petunia took a deep breath and said: "Leave right now and take him with you. You have told him too much already."

That rather seemed to clench the matter, and so Harry turned to Mr. Travers and said: "Yes, I will go with you."

"Pack your things, then."

Harry headed to his cupboard, and as the stranger followed him to the hall, Harry was startled by his sharp question: "What are you doing there?"

"Packing my things, sir," Harry replied from where he was trying to gather all his belongings – not that there were many.

"Why are your things in a cupboard under the stairs?"

"This is where I sleep, sir," Harry replied, emerging from it.

Mr. Travers quickly whipped around to face Aunt Petunia, who squeaked. "This is not the last you see of me, Petunia Dursley," he said in a very menacing tone of voice. "I have an uncle which I think I would like you to meet..." The he turned back to Harry, and said sharply: "Come."

Harry was wondering if he had made the right choice, but then again, had there really been any choice, in the end?


	2. The Explaining Cousin

AN: Lots of talking and explaining in this chapter. No getting around that, I'm afraid. Especially with Mr. Travers being how he is.

I don't own anything. I think think Alduin Travers would like the idea of me owning him.

And once more, if I could ask you to please click on the survey that's linked at the top of my author page? Pretty please?

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Harry walked behind Mr. Travers, outside and to the street, clenching his things to his chest, packed in a sheet. He was still a little dizzy from how fast everything happened, and wondering how did the man make it so that he was floating in the air for a moment. His newly discovered cousin led him to a secluded place several streets away and turned to him. "Just learning that magic was real," he said, "this is going to be a little shocking for you, but I have no intention of traveling by Muggle means. Hold onto my arm, very tightly. We are going to Apparate."

Harry, not knowing what else to do, obediently took the man's arm. He felt Mr. Travers spin, then there was a strong pressure all around him, and just as he was thinking that all those warnings on the telly had been right and that he had met a crazy murderer who was just beginning to torture him in some strange way, the feeling stopped and when Harry opened his eyes – he wasn't even aware that he had closed them – he saw that they were standing in a hall of some magnificent mansion. "Welcome," the man said, "to Travers Manor."

Harry stared. Have they just traveled by magic? Actual, real magic, not some trick that could be explained in a behind-the-scenes show? He could not come up with a way this could have been faked. "This is your house?" He asked, astonished.

"Yes. Now let me show you to your room."

If magic was real, and he just got to experience it...this was _so cool._

Mr. Travers led the way upstairs and through a long corridor, and then to an enormous room with a large canopy bed dominating it. "Here we are," Mr. Travers said. "This room should be just right for you, shouldn't it?"

"This room?" Harry stared, forgetting all his musing about magic in light of more practical concerns. "But sir, I mean...it is so big!"

Mr. Travers raised his eyebrow. "There aren't many small rooms in this house, and I'm certainly not making you sleep in a cupboard. And none of this 'sir' nonsense, I told you we were cousins. Get settled and then come down to – can you find the stairs again?"

"I think so, s-" Harry checked himself in time.

"Good. Then just come back downstairs to the hall, and call my name, and I will fetch you. And by the way, the bathroom is just next door."

After Mr. Travers left, Harry looked around himself and then put his small bundle on the bed. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He sorted the clothes and refolded it, and looked around. Was he allowed to use the wardrobe and the chest of drawers? He didn't know. Mr. Travers did say the room was his, but it all seemed just too posh to be used...in the end, Harry simply left his things on the bed, took off his coat, carefully folded it on the bed, and went downstairs to speak to Mr. Travers. There were too many questions swimming around his head to be patient.

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Meanwhile, Alduin Travers marched downstairs to his drawing room and threw a fistful of Floo powder in the fireplace. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!" He shouted, kneeling to stick his head inside, and in no time at all, he was facing Albus Dumbledore himself. "I have relocated Harry Potter to my house," he said without preamble.

Dumbledore's face grew cold immediately. "I have told you..."

"I don't care what you told me. I had my reservations before, as you know – no amount of blood wards could protect Harry when he was outside the house, which was a good portion of the time, actually – but they were abusing and mistreating him there, Dumbledore. This is the end of discussion. Travers Manor is a very safe place, and I will be treating him well, so his chances of actually living till adulthood have just markedly improved, I would say. But you are welcome to try and bring the case to Wizengamot."

Dumbledore frowned. He knew very well he had no chance of winning if he did that, which was exactly why the younger man had said it. In that moment, Alduin heard shouting from the hall. "I have to go now," he said, "but you are welcome to contact me after dinner if you want to discuss it more." And he severed the connection.

In the entrance hall, he found Harry looking confusedly and a little dazedly around himself. "This way," he said, "follow me."

He led his new charge back to the drawing room, where he pointed to an armchair. "Please, sit down. I will call for tea. Nitty!"

His parlour-elf appeared, and Harry jumped and shrieked a little. Right. Another thing he didn't know.

"Full tea for two, if you please."

The elf just nodded and popped away, and Alduin sat down opposite Harry. "So," he said, "I assume you have questions."

His cousin just nodded mutely.

"I will attempt to give some sort of comprehensive explanation first and see how much I can cover, and then you are free to ask, all right?"

A nod.

Alduin took a deep breath and began. "I gather you do not know anything about magic from your Aunt. So let us start with this. There is a force in this world which is called magic. Some people are born with it. It cannot be learned, though the talent can be improved on by training. It is chiefly hereditary, but you do get the anomalous Squib now and then – meaning a person whose parents are magical, but who themselves cannot control magic – and, much more often, you get the Muggle-born. That is a random genetic mutation in the opposite direction: a person from a non-magical family is born with the ability to control magic. One of those cases was your mother. Both of her parents were Muggles – non-magical – but she herself was a witch."

"My mum was a witch?" Harry was clearly flabbergasted.

Alduin inclined his head. "Yes. And your father was a wizard. He, however, was from a very old family of witches and wizards – The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."

Harry frowned. "So...does that mean I am a...how was the word? Squib?"

Alduin looked at him, astonished. "Certainly not! You, Harry, are a wizard, too."

The boy blinked. "What?"

His cousin smiled at him thinly in return. "Oh yes."

"Me? But that's...I mean, I can't do magic," Harry tried to explain helpfully.

Alduin's smile broadened. "Not yet – at least not intentionally – because you haven't been trained yet. That's what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is for. But think back and tell me, have you ever done something unusual or mysterious, especially when you were upset?"

"Well – yes! I turned a teacher's hair blue, and I made a sweater shrink, and I made my hair grow really quickly...and some other things, too!" Harry sounded excited now.

"You see?" Alduin said, as the food appeared and he motioned for Harry to eat. "That is what's called accidental magic. It happens to untrained children, and sometimes to trained adults, too, when the emotional pressure is too big and they are powerful enough. Part of the point of your training is learning to control it, to avoid accidents. But more on that later. What did your Aunt tell you about your parents?"

Harry shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "Not much. She always hated when I asked about them, and the Dursleys only ever told me that they were good for nothing, and that they died in a car crash."

"That is certainly not true." At least not the second part, Alduin thought uncharitably, but he had no intention of saying that aloud. "Both of your parents were quite talented and powerful magicians, and their deaths were anything but mundane. You see, there was an evil wizard that appeared some time ago, and he started to gain followers and he was trying to get to power, sweeping anyone who stood against him out of the way. Your parents were one of those who made a stand, and he decided to eliminate them. He came to your house one Halloween night, when you were just one year old, and killed both of them. And this is where the most mysterious part happened – he then proceeded to try and kill you, only to be destroyed himself. He is probably not quite dead, but nevertheless, he has been gone for nine years now, and as you were connected to his downfall, you are known in the wizarding world as the Boy Who Lived, and celebrated as a hero."

Harry was silent for a long while, and then he asked: "But why? The way you say it, it sounds like he made a mistake or something..."

Alduin shook his head. "No one knows what really happened there, Harry. The fact is that you are the only person to survive such a direct encounter with him, and bear a scar to prove it."

"You mean...?" The boy touched his forehead.

Alduin nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Your lighting bolt scar is where the curse hit you."

Harry frowned. "I think I remember a little...a lot of green light...and a laugh, I think."

This time, Alduin's nod was more pronounced, and more thoughtful. It was interestign that the boy remembered. "The green light would be the killing curse. It manifests as a stream of green light, and it causes instant death. There is no counter-curse and it can go through any magical shield, though not through a physical one, so hiding behind things does actually help. One use of such a curse can earn you a lifelong stay in Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Not just because it kills – lots of curses can kill – but because the one who uses it has to really fully intend to kill, with all his being, for the curse to work. It shows you what this dark wizards was like, that he was capable of using such a curse on a baby."

Harry mused on that a moment, then he said: "This man, the one who murdered my parents...you only call his dark wizard...what was his name?"

Alduin actually smiled a little, even though he did not want the boy to think he was mocking his family tragedy. "Now that is a loaded question. I know this should be simple to answer, but it actually isn't. The man was born under one name – Tom Riddle – but no one will know it's him when you say that. He assumed the title of Lord Voldemort when he decided to rule the world, and that's how most people know him, only they don't like to say the name."

"Why?"

Alduin sighed. "In the magical world, names of things sometimes have power, and they are afraid that if they say his name, he will hear them, even though there was never any evidence to that effect. But some very dangerous demons work that way, and I think because he was so evil, people made that connection. So normally, you will hear him being referred to as You Know Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named."

Harry frowned. "That sounds silly."

"I agree in part, though once you are longer in the magical world, it will seem less silly to you." Alduin paused. "But, anyway, to continue with your family history. I know it's hard to hear, but I think it's better if you have it all at once. So, just a day after this tragedy, Sirius Black, your father's supposed best friend and your godfather, turned out to be on Riddle's side all along. It was him who sold your parents to the dark wizard, told him where they were hiding. After Riddle's downfall, it appears he went a little crazy. He killed twelve Muggles and another friend of your father's, who confronted him about the betrayal. He was arrested soon afterwards, laughing madly. He is in Azkaban now, and will be for the rest of his life."

"Good," Harry said in a hard voice.

"I agree completely. I knew Black personally and looking back, I have to say it's astonishing no one spotted he was clearly a sociopath sooner." Or maybe they spotted it and chose to turn a blind eye to it? One never knew with Dumbledore.

"How come my father didn't know, if you think it was obvious?" Harry asked.

"Well, your father met Black when he was eleven, and of course at that time it wasn't clear. And later, they were friends. Your father was very loyal, and wouldn't hear anything against his best mate. And Black could be very charming and amusing when he wanted, and he was always so towards James, and later towards Lily. It was only when you looked at how he treated the weak you could see what he was really like." Of course, the same could be said about James, but Alduin was hardly going to talk about that now.

"Anyway," he continued. "so your godfather was gone. Both Lily's and James' parents had already been dead for some time, as well as mine. James' mother had had a brother, but he had been dead already too. His son and the son's wife were still alive, though, as well as their son, who was almost exactly your age. I believe that you would have perhaps been placed in their care, given time – they were not as closely related to you as the Dursleys, but they were wizards, and so the Wizengamot would have preferred them - but before that could be arranged, a terrible attack on them happened, by some remaining followers of Riddle. They are not dead, but they were tortured into insanity by them. Only their their son remained alive, and his grandmother, who, however, is hardly related to you at all, as much as that can be said about anyone in the wizarding world, which is very small. So out of all the people related to you more closely than through your great-great-grandparents – which would include a good portion of the wizarding world and could not, therefore, be basis for any solid claim – the only one remaining was me. And I was attacked by Riddle's followers about a month before you were killed. They had not killed me, thank Merlin, but they did manage to injure me gravely before I eliminated them, and I have spent the last nine years in a coma. I awakened just this summer, and came to check on your whereabouts as soon as I learned of your situation."

Harry looked half close to tears, half angry. "Did this Riddle have a vendetta against my family or something?"

Alduin sighed. "No, Harry, it just seems to you that way, because everyone is so closely related. In our world, when you are a pureblood – from a magical family, I mean - you generally have two options. Either many of your relations have been murdered by Riddle, or they have joined him. Actually, thinking about it, most manage to have both sorts."

"Do you?" Harry asked glumly.

"Certainly," Alduin replied drily. My uncle, Oswin Travers, is in prison for murdering the McKinnon family, and of course your father, James, is an example of the other kind. And if we went further, we could find much more – through my great-grandparents, I am related to Sirius and Regulus Black, both Riddle's servants, and Bellatrix Black, the woman primarily responsible for torturing the Longbottoms to insanity. All of those people, you are related to as well. My more heroic relations include the Shacklebolts, killed by Riddle's supporters."

There was a silence as Harry considered this new information, and then as he said, nothing, Alduin continued: "I think this is getting rather overwhelming, all the talk of dead relations you have never met. You must have some more practical questions."

Harry nodded slowly. "I guess...what happens now?"

"Well, now I will send you upstairs to take in what you have learned in peace. Tomorrow we will go to Diagon Alley – the wizarding shopping zone – to buy you some new clothes of the proper kind. After that, well..." Alduin paused, then asked: "You used to go to a Muggle elementary school, correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it there?"

Harry frowned. "Well, it was better than the Dursleys."

I bet it was. "Let me rephrase: if you had the choice between being educated at home – here – or going back there, what would you choose?"

Harry hesitated. "I don't want to be a bother..."

"Harry, I would much prefer to educate you at home. It is only that I didn't want to part you from your friends there."

"I never had any friends there," Harry explained helpfully, "because everyone was too afraid of Dudley – my cousin – to talk to me."

Alduin gave a deep sigh. "Did you take your schoolbooks from the Dursleys?"

"I did."

"Good. I will be teaching you at home, so your mornings on weekdays will be taken by that. I will be often gone during the afternoon, so you will be free to do what you want here in the house and garden. Later, when you get used to the wizarding world a little, I will take you to meet some other witches and wizards, some of the distant relations of yours – and certainly you should meet Neville Longbottom. He is your second cousin, which makes him the closest wizarding relation after me you have. And in September, you will go to Hogwarts. It's a boarding school, so you will only be coming home for Christmas and Easter holidays. I will tell you more about the school, and many other things, but I don't want to overwhelm you too much right now. Have you finished your food?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't eaten much, but then given the topic of their conversation, Alduin wasn't surprised. "Well then, come back down at eight, that's when dinner is served. Until then, I have work to do."

Harry nodded again and left the room.


	3. Keeper of Knowledge

AN: Sorry about the late update, I was away at a conference (and speaking of conferences, could you please click that link on the top of my author page? I need that survey for a paper at another conference). I will try to make up for it by two updates this week, but I'm not promising anything.

Quite a lot of explaining in this one too. It will ease off in the next, I promise.

I don't own them!

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Once back in his bedroom, Harry looked around. So far, it appeared this room was really to be his, but he didn't want to expect too much. He would rather avoid disappointment. Nevertheless, he climbed onto the bed and lied down, thinking about what he just heard. First, there was something disturbing about finding out his parents have been murdered, even though it appeared lots of people were at the time. But in some ways he supposed it was better than what he had believed before – they they had just randomly died in a car crash, and always with the cold suspicions that they might have been drunk, like Aunt Marge said...No, at least they died for what they believed for.

The truly disquieting part was his own survival. Why didn't that Riddle manage to kill him too? Did he make a mistake? From what Mr. Travers said, it seemed he was quite a pro at killing, so why should it go wrong at just that moment? Besides, if he had made a mistake, wouldn't it have just not worked at all, instead of producing the scar and destroying Riddle? He had to ask at dinner.

And then there was the business of his godfather betraying his parents. That was vile and disgusting, maybe even worse than the Riddle guy – this man pretended to be their friend! Harry was glad he was in prison, and couldn't help hoping that wizarding prisons were really nasty and that other prisoners were mean to him. He curled up on his side and tried to think about something else, because this man made his stomach turn.

Fortunately there was quite enough to distract him, most importantly the life-changing discovery that he was a wizard. Harry wasn't sure he quite believed it himself, but it did explain the weird things that have been happening around him pretty well. And if it was true...did it mean he would be able to teleport like Mr. Travers did today? No, not teleport – it was like teleporting, but he had called it something else...appearing? Not quite...he would have to learn all this, Harry supposed. And were all wizards equally powerful? Maybe only the best ones could learn to teleport. But surely he would be able to do at least something, and something more useful than have his hair grow, too.

Harry spent the remaining time musing about these problems, and then, when the clock told him it was time, he descended to dinner – or rather to the hall, when he stood, unsure of himself, before calling: "Mr. Travers?"

"In here," he heard from a door to his right, and following the voice, arrived in a different parlour than the one they sat in in the afternoon. Right after they entered, the small creature he had already seen before appeared before him, opened a different door and announced: "Dinner is served, Masters."

It disappeared afterwards, so Harry turned to his cousin and asked: "What is it?"

"What is what?" Mr. Travers returned, sitting down.

"This creature that just let us in," Harry clarified, gingerly placing himself on the edge of the chair Mr. Travers had indicated for him.

"Oh!" The older man smiled. "That is a house-elf. They do the work that is done by human servants in the Muggle world. You have already seen one in the afternoon, the one who was serving us tea. That was Nitty, my parlour elf. Call for her when you want something to eat during the day. The one who let us in was Tobby, who is my butler. If you need something, you should turn either to him or to Lenny, my housekeeper. They are the two heads of staff, and will be best able to help you, even though every house elf here will be glad to, of course."

So there were more of them? "But how can I tell them apart? Nitty and Tobby looked exactly the same to me!"

Mr. Travers laughed heartily. "That was only because they were the first two house elves you have ever seen. I assure you, they look very different. In fact, don't let Nitty hear you say this – she is about forty years younger than Tobby, and she is a girl! It would upset her." He paused as food appeared on his plate, and motioning for Harry to eat, he added: "And talking about upsetting the elves, the most important thing you need to know about them is never give them clothes. Giving a house-elf clothes means you are firing them, and you can only do that if you are extremely dissatisfied with their work. They take it very hard, like extreme shame, that they disappointed their family. You see, they are connected to the families they serve, and this clan has been serving the House of Travers for hundreds of years. I never had an occasion to give any of them clothes."

"But, I mean, what about doing the laundry? Do you do it yourself, because the elves can't...?" Somehow, the idea of his cousin doing his own laundry seemed completely preposterous to Harry, even though he had only known him for a few hours.

Mr. Travers was already shaking his head. "No. They can touch clothes, and work with it, and everything of the sort. But you can't give it to them – so, for example, you can't hand them your dirty shirt, saying 'please, Milly, launder this for me' – but you can put the shirt on your bed and ask Milly to launder it, and it will be fine."

"Phew. It's complicated."

Mr. Travers smiled. "It just seems so to you because it is new. For witches and wizards, this is automatic."

They ate in silence for a little while, then Harry said: "Mr. Travers-"

"Come on, Harry. Don't call me Mr. Travers. Did you call your cousin from your mother's side Mr. Dursley?"

The boy laughed. The man smiled in return. "I didn't think so."

"So what should I call you?" Harry asked uncertainly.

In response, he got a shrug. "Just Alduin, or, if this makes you uncomfortable, you can call me cousin Alduin or just cousin."

All of it sounded uncomfortable to Harry, but he promised himself to try. "Okay, so, um, cousin, I was thinking about destroying this Riddle guy, and it all seems very fishy to me. How did that happen? Do you think he made a mistake, or...?"

His cousin seemed to hesitate. "There are many theories, Harry, some more convincing, some less so. I think this would be easier to discuss in depth when you meet my friend, Miss Burke. She is very interested in history and can tell you a little more about it than I can."

"All right." Harry was silent for a moment, then asked, hoping it wasn't impolite: "So your friend is a historian...and what do you do?"

Mr. Travers – no, cousin Alduin – smiled. "You will find that most heads, or even members, of Noble and Most Ancient Houses do not work in the normal sense of the word – we don't have day jobs. We do something, of course – lots of things – but it's usually not a job in the ordinary sense of the word. Miss Burke doesn't work as a historian either, she simply spends a lot of her time studying history. As for me, my chief interest is magical theory, and especially the theory of what we would call transcendental sciences – the most mystical of all sciences, that is. It includes questions like what happens after death, how does time work, and similar. It's very arcane."

"It sounds very mysterious." Harry paused. "So does everyone just kinda study when they are adults in the wizarding world?"

Cousin Alduin laughed. "Certainly not." He paused. "I suppose now I must make a small digression, to Hogwarts. There are four Houses there, and at the beginning of their studies, all students are sorted into one. It's Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Where the students are sorted depends on their personal qualities, and what they value the most. The names, you see, are names of the four founders of Hogwarts, and each of them founded a House where the students were accepted according to the quality they prized the most. Rowena Ravenclaw though that thirst for knowledge was the most important trait. It is crucial to understand this about Ravenclaw – many people just think that the house is for the clever. It's certainly true that most of its members are no bumbling idiots, but that's not the defining trait. They have to consider knowledge very important, more important than the other traits, and they have to be very interested in it. Usually it also means they have to want to really understand things, as opposed to just memorizing things by heart because it will help in their exam. So, those are the qualities that get you in Ravenclaw. Then there is Slytherin. Salazar Slytherin prized ambition the most, together with shrewdness. Historians say he kept arguing with Rowena Ravenclaw about this – because, you see, he prized knowledge and cleverness very high too, only he was more interested in what could be used in practice. What I just talked about, magical theory and transcendental sciences, would be of little interest to him, while it would be the most important thing to Rowena Ravenclaw. The third House is Gryffindor, and Godric Gryffindor thought courage was important, fighting for what was right and never backing down. He clashed with Slytherin the most, because Slytherin preferred careful methods and consideration and weighting one's chances, while Gryffindor believed that if something was important for you, you simply had to go for it with all you had and hope for the best. And then there was Helga Hufflepuff, a kindly woman who looked at the others' demands and decided that the rest of the students had to go somewhere after all, the ones who were neither intellectually curious nor shrewd nor brave...and she founded her House. She is said to have valued hard work and loyalty, but the fact is that the House was founded with the intention of providing space for all the others, who never fit anywhere else.

"Now, the reason why I started to talk about this is that Houses often run in families. And so most Noble and Most Ancient Houses – indeed, most wizarding families older than a couple of generations – are associated with a particular House. There are flukes, of course, but there are also general trends. And the House of Travers, I am proud to say, has a long tradition of association with Ravenclaw. As does House Burke. So the reason me and Miss Burke are both scholars is because our family tradition and legacy made us so."

"And House Potter?" Harry asked curiously.

"I expected you would ask. Potters have long been associated with Gryffindor, and both your parents were members of that house," cousin Alduin explained.

"Do you think I will be, too?" Harry wondered.

The older man shrugged elegantly. "I do not know, but it is likely. Don't worry about it, though, Hogwarts provides excellent education no matter what house you are in."

"But it's kind of embarrassing to be in Hufflepuff, isn't it?" Harry muttered.

"Many people think so," his cousin admitted, "but there is also a number of Noble and Most Ancient families that are traditionally associated with that House and proud of it. The Smiths, for example, are descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself. Many of them would certainly be ambitious enough for Slytherin, but the sorting takes into account your own preference – what you consider important – and their members usually ask for Hufflepuff. Actually they rarely have people somewhere else, because, well...when you ask for Ravenclaw, but you simply aren't clever or interested in knowledge at all and only wanted to be there because your father was, for example, you are not going to get that House, the Sorting will just ignore your wish. But with Hufflepuff, this problem doesn't appear, because there isn't any necessary qualification to be in that house. Nevertheless, as I said, its members often take pride in their hard work and loyalty and just overly being decent people, which they say is the most important part. They paint is as a virtue, you see – at Sorting, they rejected all the other houses not because the don't have their qualities, but because they know the most important thing is being moral."

Harry nodded, musing about it, and then asked: "You talked about Noble and Most Ancient Houses. What does that mean?"

"It's the official designation of the forty-one oldest wizarding families in Britain, ones that have been in existence already when the Wizengamot was founded. Well, it used to be fifty families when the body was founded, actually, but nine of them have died out. Each of these families, you see, has a representative on the Wizengamot. The representatives of the extinct families have been substituted by representative of various public organizations, like Hogwarts and the Ministry and St. Mungo's."

Harry must have looked very confused, because his cousin said: "Sorry. Wizengamot is a magical High Court, which serves a little like Muggle parliament too. St. Mungo's is our hospital, and the Ministry of Magic is the government."

Harry nodded, then backtracked. "Wait, didn't you say Potters were ones of these Noble and Most Ancient Houses?"

"They most certainly are."

"Does that mean I have a seat at the Wizengamot?" Harry was amazed.

"Not quite yet. But once you are of age, yes, you will." Cousin Alduin explained seriously.

"Do you?"

"Naturally."

"Cool."

The dinner was done with by now, and looking at the clock, cousin Alduin said: "I think you should go to sleep. You have had a turbulent day, and there is a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow."

Harry nodded and got up, feeling rather tired now that he thought about it. "Good night, cousin Alduin."

"Good night, cousin Harry," the older man said with a smile.

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When Harry woke up in the morning, it was to an unfamiliar feeling of softness and space around him. He opened his eyes, disorientated, and then he remembered. He was in Travers Manor, his cousin's house, and he was going to live here!

He put on his glasses, but otherwise kept lying in bed, thinking. So far, so good – he had really been allowed to sleep in this splendid room. He even put his things in the chest of drawers last evening, and no one seemed to be angry about it. He still didn't entirely believe this would last, but even a little bit of it was fantastic, although it would make returning to the Dursleys that much harder.

He contemplated the things he learned about his family history, too, and the Hogwarts houses. Gryffindor really sounded the best to him, and not just because his family had been in it. The second would probably be Slytherin, though he wasn't going to tell cousin Alduin that, because he seemed to really like Ravenclaw, his old house. Harry was sure Helga Hufflepuff had been a nice woman, but ending up in her house would be the most embarrassing. Besides, he didn't quite understand what those Hufflepuff families meant about being a good person – it wasn't enough to just want to be one, was it? One had to do something good, help some people, and for that you needed courage. Harry thought that getting him from the Dursleys had been rather Gryffindor of cousin Alduin, because he had to face shouting aunt Petunia. If he had been more Hufflepuff, maybe he would have just sat and thought about how nice it would be to be able to help him. Maybe if some of the teachers at school had been more Gryffindor, they would have tried helping him in some way, instead of just looking at him sadly from time to time. Or some of the children from his class, too – sometimes someone looked like they wanted to talk to him, but then they got too scared of Dudley. Being nice just wasn't enough, he decided. He didn't much care if people charge into situations head-on or planned them in detail, as long as they did _something_. And he still thought you needed bravery for both.

A pop interrupted Harry's thoughts. A house-elf appeared, bearing a tea tray. Seeing that he was awake, the elf said: "Good morning, master Harry."

"Er, good morning. What's your name?"

"I'm Sibby," the elf squealed, "and I will be your personal elf. Here is your morning tea."

"Thanks," Harry replied, rather unsure of himself.

"It is my honour to serve you, Master Harry."

All this talk about serving was making Harry rather nervous, but he wasn't sure what was the usual way to answer, so he just drank his tea and then got up. It was still dark outside, it being winter, but Sibby turned on the lights, allowing him to dress comfortably and then move to the bathroom to wash his face. Then he went down, wondering about breakfast.

Cousin Alduin called to him from yet another parlour, this one done in all light colours, and said: "This is the breakfast parlour, where I normally eat in the morning, when I don't have visitors. Take whatever you want to."

The choice was impressive. Harry was a little nervous about it, but seeing how much his cousin had on his plate, he allowed himself to take some little bacon, one sausage and a little of scrambled eggs. "Are you sure this is enough?" Alduin asked.

"Yes, it's all right," Harry said awkwardly.

"Really, don't hesitate to have another helping if you want to," his cousin replied from piling his eggs on the fork. "You don't want the elves to have to throw it out, do you?"

The thought of such waste drew Harry to add much more to his plate, and he discovered that he found this way of having breakfast, with so much of it, very satisfying.

After they were done, cousin Alduin said: "Now we will go to Diagon Alley. But first, I need to make you a little more presentable. Come with me."

He led Harry upstairs and to the other side than where his bedroom laid. A the end of that corridor, he said: "This is my bedroom, in case you ever need to find it. I am going to see if I can resize some of my robes to fit you, for now." He went to a door, which proved to lead to a dressing room, and looked through his clothes for a while. "This would do," he said in the end, and handed Harry navy blue robes of a simple cut. "Put it on."

Harry started to do so, but his cousin stopped him. "Harry," he said, "we don't wear robes over muggle clothes. We wear them instead of it."

That threw Harry a little, but he obediently took off his T-shirt and pulled the robes over his head instead. They were huge, but his cousin took out the thin piece of wood again – Harry supposed it must be his magic wand – and did something with it, and suddenly the robes seemed to fit him just fine.

"Should I take the trousers off too?" Harry asked, worried.

"Well, we don't wear them," was the reply, "but if it would make you uncomfortable, don't worry about it now. You can get used to the wizarding fashion later." Alduin looked him over. "Oh, of course! Sorry I didn't notice earlier." He took off Harry's glasses, did something with his wand again – and all the spellotape was gone, the glasses as good as new!

"Thank you!" Harry said, excited. He couldn't wait until he would be able to do things like this himself, if he really could.

"Now, are we ready to go?"

"Yes!" Harry was incredibly curious about what a wizarding shopping area looked like.

"Then hold on to my arm, we are going to Apparate again."

And before Harry had time to ask what it meant, he was once more surrounded by the terrible feeling of air being squished out of his lungs. And they stood on a small, dirty backyard. Alduin took out his wand and tapped a wall, and the brick he touched started to move...and ten a door opened, and Harry saw the most amazing street of his life.

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AN: The clothes thing is a pet peeve of mine, so I just had to include it!


	4. Diagon Alley

AN: The new chapter, as not-promised. Maybe click that link on the top of my author page as a reward?

I still don't own them.

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Alduin had not asked Dumbledore for Harry's Gringotts key. After all, every decent relative took care of their family's children out of their own pocket, didn't they? It wasn't like he couldn't afford it. He had been saving money for the last nine years, after all.

Laughing internally at his own poor joke, Alduin let Harry soak in the atmosphere for a while, then nudged him gently and took him down the street to Edgecombe's. The reception witch smiled her polished smile when she saw them, and then, actually noticing who he was, promptly approached them with a smile significantly widened. "Mr. Travers!" She said. "We have been expecting you. Mr. Edgecombe is waiting for you in the back."

"Thank you," he said smoothly, and directly Harry to the unobtrusive door which led to the privacy of rooms for old customers.

"Mr. Travers!" The shop owner said, his enthusiasm more muted and subtle. "Welcome. And this, I presume, is your delightful charge."

"Yes," Alduin inclined his head. "This is Harry Potter."

"Welcome, Mr. Potter, to the finest establishment of wizarding fashion. Now, if you allow me, I would like to take your measurements..."

When that was done, different fabrics were presented to Harry, who chose the ones he liked the most, and indicated what were his preferred colours. "I assume you would like to take at least one set of robes with you immediately?" Mr. Edgecombe said, turning to Alduin.

"Yes, if you would be so kind," he replied, looking up from the magazines he was perusing.

"Very well then, if you could please wait here."

The shopkeeper disappeared, and Harry immediately dug into the magazines, clearly bursting with curiosity. "The pictures move!" He muttered then, astonished.

"Yes, Harry, all pictures in the wizarding world move, and most portraits can communicate, too, though usually only in a very basic way."

"Really? How come I haven't noticed at your house?" Harry was frowning, apparently trying to remember if he could have missed something so strange.

"I do not have many portraits downstairs. Most of them are in the picture gallery. I prefer it that way. And those that are in the parlours and in the dining room spend most of their time sleeping, so it is easy to miss." They were the most interesting – from his point of view – members of his house, and they usually only woke up for stimulating intellectual discussions.

Harry seemed determined to explore this new wonder in detail once they came back, but for now, he returned to the magazines. The shop owner appeared again some time later with a first draft of the robes, which he tried on Harry and then took back into the depth of the shop. When he came again, it was with the finished product, some thirty minutes later, for Harry to change into.

"Thank you, Mr. Edgecombe," Alduin said, raising.

"You are quite welcome, sir. The rest shall be delivered to your address, I expect?"

"Precisely."

"Very good, sir, have a nice day."

Once they were outside, Harry asked: "Are we going to pay only after he delivers the dress?"

"The robes, Harry," Alduin replied, striding down the street, "and no, it is simply going to be billed directly to my account."

Harry seemed shocked. "But, I mean...how do you know he won't ask for more than you've agreed on?"

Alduin frowned. "Never let him hear you say such a thing, Harry, or indeed, any decent shopkeeper. Doing such a thing once – especially to a member of a Noble and Most Ancient House – would ruin him forever. He cannot afford such a thing."

"And what if someone accused him of doing just that?" Harry insisted.

"Well, the thing is, in shops like this one, you don't agree on a price. You simply order what you want, and later check your account, and if you think the price outrageous, you never shop there again."

"But, I mean, what if someone opened a new shop and asked for outrageous prices and everyone shopped there just once? They wouldn't go again, but the shopkeeper would still get a lot of money off the people he tricked..." The honor system was clearly incomprehensible to Harry.

"If the sum was really absurd, the goblins would contact me before billing it," Alduin explained patiently. "They have a good estimate of what is realistic, so if the bill said one set of robes cost over a thousand galleons, let's say, they would ask if I had really ordered something extraordinary. Especially if it came from a new robesmaker no one has ever heard about. Then, also, most wizards go by recommendation when choosing shops. A new robesmaker is in an extremely difficult position, and he would hardly get more than one or two customers without any kind of recommendation. So really, it wouldn't have been such a good plan to become rich."

"Galleons are wizarding money?" The boy asked.

"Oh, yes, I apologize," Alduin backtracked a little. "We have gold galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts. There are seventeen sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts in a sickle. One galleon if about five pounds sterling."

Harry stopped. "Wait, and the goblins would only contact you if the robes cost over _one thousand galleons_?"

"Keep your voice down, Harry. Yes. You might have figured out from where I live that I am rather well off." Alduin's face was pinched in distaste. To discuss such a thing in the street! Harry had a lot to learn.

"But what about the people who aren't?"

"The people who aren't," said Alduin plainly, "do not shop at such places."

"But what if they don't know? What if I came here without you for the first time, and just tried to buy something?" Harry sounded a little panicked.

Alduin smiled a little, attempting to calm him: "Then it would have been no trouble at all, since you certainly can afford it."

Harry stopped again.

"Come on," Alduin nudged him. "Perhaps I will show you one day. I do not know your state of affairs exactly, but the Potter wealth is certainly not negligible. But if someone who actually doesn't have the money walked in, the simple answer is that they would not have allowed him to order anything. Shops like this are extremely picky about their customers. If they didn't know you, or your family, they would likely tell you they were too busy to receive you."

Harry frowned. Alduin expected this would need some more explaining, but he would lave it for home. Now, it was time to get Harry new shoes, and glasses. Certainly glasses.

Once his charge looked like a proper wizard, and they took their elevenses at the Fudge café, they headed to Flourish and Blotts. It wasn't exactly Alduin's bookshop of choice, but it served the most mainstream clientele, increasing the chance that Harry would be able to find something that interested him.

Alduin considered for a moment, and then directed the boy to the history section and pointed out some simple, introductory books. Harry seemed interested enough, and so the same was repeated in magical theory section. Additionally, Alduin judged that Tales of Beedle the Bard would come in useful, though he picked an annotated adult version – no need to expose his cousin to the ghastly illustration that plagued all of the children's ones. Then, Alduin relented and led Harry to fiction.

He sighted when he noticed that the boy's attention was immediately caught by that terrible Martin Miggs comics. He supposed it was inevitable, really. "I will let you browse," he told his charge, not wanting to have to cringe every time he saw him looking at something he judged to be complete junk. He was theoretically aware that he could hardly expect a boy who had never been led to read to suddenly start picking up Shakespeare on his own, but still.

He wandered back to the magical theory section, searching for something interesting he hadn't read yet. Not that he had much hope – Flourish and Blotts hardly ever sold something interesting in the first place. Shaking his head, he went to the counter: "I am sorry, but do you happen to know what is the Hogwarts-used introduction to magical theory these days?" He asked the assistant.

"I cannot tell you for certain what is it going to be next year, sir, but unless they change course material, it should be the book by Wafling," the man explained helpfully.

"Thank you."

He went to hunt for the book in question, judging it couldn't hurt to give Harry a head start, and then leisurely walked thorough the pleasantly empty shop back to fiction. "Did you like anything?" He asked his cousin.

"Well..." Harry was clearly shy to ask for things to be bought for him, but after some encouragement, indicated the comics and three thin novels. Alduin supposed that would do to begin with, and they went to pay for their purchase and headed home for lunch.

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They arrived to a house decorated for Christmas, as it hadn't been before they left. Harry was thrilled, but also a little nervous. Aunt Petunia had always been rather strict about her decoration, and he always had to stay far away.

"Harry," his cousin said, "lunch is at two. And you might want to try dressing like a proper wizard while at home at least, so that you get used to it. I think it would be more comfortable for you at first than going without trousers in the street, am I right?"

Harry nodded vigorously. It was going to be very strange even inside the house, to be honest, he was sure of it. He run up the stairs, enjoying the clear view he had in the new glasses. It was so much better! He really hoped that even if his cousin decided to send him back to the Dursleys in time, he would allow him to keep the glasses. After all, what good would they be to him? But then he realized Dudley would no doubt break them immediately, and sighed.

Anyway, he thought, I hope I can stay at least till Christmas. Spending Christmas somewhere away from Privet Drive would be great.

He took off his trousers, feeling exactly as strange as he had expected he would, and took his new comics out of the bag. It was really cool. It was more like a Muggle animated film, because the characters moved and everything, only they speech was written in bubbles just like in Muggle comics. He followed Martin through the panels with different backgrounds, thinking that if Dudley could see him now, he would be insanely jealous.

He kept his eye on the clock on his bedside table, and when it was time, he skipped down for lunch.

Once they were seated at the table, Alduin told him: "I will be going out in the afternoon, so I suggest you spend the time by reading your new books. The library here is open to you too, of course. You can ask the elves to point the way. I won't probably be back for tea, but it will be laid out for you in the same drawing room as yesterday, at five. I expect you at dinner at eight, too. Tomorrow, we will look at your Muggle school books and devise some kind of plan for your education."

Harry nodded. "What about the school?" He asked then. "I mean, won't they wonder where have I gone to?"

"Don't worry about it, I am taking care of it. It is one of the reasons I am going out after lunch. I will register you as a wizarding minor – something that normally happens to the Muggle-raised once they start attending Hogwarts – which means you will disappear from Muggle records. Your school teacher will probably be told you transferred to a different school or something of the sort. These things are handled by the Ministry, so I don't quite now what is done exactly. I gather there aren't any good friends there that should be specially informed?"

Harry shook his head. "Like I said, no one talked to me much, because they were afraid of Dudley and then I looked so strange, I mean, with Dudley's old clothes and all."

"Well, then at least there is one upside to all that, you don't have to be sorry."

Harry most certainly wasn't.

After lunch, he followed his cousin's recommendation and opened the history book he had been given. It was really interesting – all those old cultures he knew from Muggle telly, and they had witches and wizards! Most of the history, it seemed to him, was similar to what the Muggles knew, only there were magicians and fantastic creatures in it. Harry read and read, and when he looked up again, it was suddenly half past four. He wasn't really feeling hungry yet, but closed the book – afraid of loosing himself again – and opened the comics instead. The half an hour was just enough to finish a short story.

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The next morning, Alduin was looking at Harry's books and thinking that if all the actual information gathered in those things was put together, it would be enough for perhaps one thin volume. There were way too many pictures in Harry's books, it seemed to him, and they were way too big.

He sighted. Apparently, he would have to deal with English, Math, Science, History, Geography and French. There was also physical education, art and computing, but he was hardly doing to devote time to that. "I'm afraid you will have to say good bye to computers," he told Harry. "They don't work in areas with too much magic around, and this house is full of magical artifacts and a clan of house-elves lives here, not to mention all of the spells I cast constantly. I don't think it's such a bad trade off."

Harry's grin was all the answer he needed.

"As for art, I encourage you to do that in your own time – I will gladly look your drawings over and provide all the supplies you need. But I can only give my mornings to your education, and so I will focus on what I consider the crucial subjects." He paused and then said: "Bien, d'abord je dois découvrir comment est ton francaise."

It turned out it wasn't very good, and that Harry had trouble fluently answering even simple questions, and his accent was something dreadful. So it was immediately decided that French would be one of the lessons he would have every day. "I think I will throw in some Latin, too," Alduin added, "it's very useful for wizards, and provides a good basis for studying other languages."

In fact, that seemed like an excellent place to start, since Alduin actually had some idea what to do there, and so he spent exhausting forty minutes by trying to make Harry converse in a foreign language – or at least read from a book in a passable way.

After the much needed break – certainly on Alduin's part – he had Harry doing some mathematical exercises from the book. It was slightly better, but he still thought he had never been looking forwards to elevenses so much in his entire life.

He started the second set of lessons with English and discovered that that was significantly better – Harry could spell decently and had no trouble understanding a written text, even though his knowledge of literature was pitiful and he would have to learn to write with a quill. History, too, was cheering – Alduin let his young charge speak, talk about what interested him the most and what he remembered from classes, and found that here there was an interest he could build on. Alexandra would be pleased. It made him even more angry about the terrible state of Hogwarts' history education.

He was starting to feel optimistic about the day, when the last lesson, science, made him want to tear his hair out again. He was quite certain explaining the difference between a vein and an artery was not supposed to be that hard.

As they relocated to the dining room for lunch, he reminded himself to keep history classes for the end in the future, to have something to look forward to.

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After lunch, Harry ran to his room to mess with the watercolours he had been given to work with. He also got some interesting chapters to read in history and English textbooks, and overly, this way of studying seemed much more pleasant than at school, where he could hardly see the blackboard and someone always seemed to be pushing him or passing him mean notes or ruining his work in some other way. Perhaps it could even – dare he say it? - be fun?


	5. Visits from Someone

AN: Here's a nother one. A bit of explaining in it too, but not too much, I hope.

It's my birthday today! So I'm apparently following the Hobbit habit of giving people gifts on my birthday with this chapter, but still, you could give me one in return by clicking the link on the top of my author page. Pretty please. One survey won't hurt you.

I don' own them!

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A week later, Alduin knew he simply had to find someone else to have a relief from teaching from time to time, otherwise he would go crazy.

To that end, he asked Alexandra for dinner.

He had always planned to do that, naturally, but he would have preferred to wait a little longer, until he was sure Harry was perfect in his manners and conversant in every day-to-day aspect of the wizarding world. However, he was also aware that it was irrational. Alexandra was safe, she was not going to betray his trust. And he needed the help. Plus, it would probably be healthy for the boy to meet someone else.

So, that day at breakfast, he noted: "We will have a visitor today. My friend Miss Burke will come for dinner."

"Oh." Harry hesitated. "Should I just eat in my room then?"

Alduin blinked. "What? No, certainly not. I'm merely informing you that you are expected to be on your best behaviour, and wear one the better evening robes – the emerald green ones."

"Oh. Okay." Harry was silent for a moment, then asked: "Is she nice?"

Alduin tried to be patient and rational. "Harry, I told you she is my friend. What kinds of people do you think I am friends with?" In fact, many people he counted among his friends could be decidedly called not nice, even Alexandra in some ways, but he didn't want to make Harry nervous.

"Sorry," Harry replied sheepishly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's all right. I think you will like her. You will see in the evening, anyway."

The evening dully arrived – after a particularly painful Math class – and the cousins were able to receive Miss Burke in all their splendour, waiting regally in the evening parlour. Harry was very visibly shy, and Alduin, frustrated, contemplated how long was it going to take until he would be able to introduce him to some of the purebloods which could potentially mean him harm.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Alexandra said in her softest voice, "I am very pleased to meet you. Tell me, how do you like living in Travers Manor so far?"

"It's great!" Harry said, immediately more lively. "My room is big and very comfortable, and the elves make wonderful food, and I enjoy many of the lessons my cousin gives me, too."

"That I am very glad to hear. I believe you like history a lot?"

"Oh yes, that's my favourite. You are a historian, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am."

They passed into the dining room, and as they sat to dinner, Harry said, shy once more: "My cousin said you would be able to tell me more about the night my parents died."

Alduin sighted. Evidently Harry needed a lesson in conversation appropriate for the dinner table. Alexandra smiled and said: "Perhaps later. It is a very sad topic, after all, and we don't want to enjoy our dinner first, don't we? Meanwhile, tell me how has your time at Travers Manor been."

As Harry launched into enthusiastic description, Alduin couldn't help but admire Alexandra. She was apparently listening attentively, even though she has heard all of this from his already, even though from a different perspective. He supposed she had some training – her great-great-grandmother was still alive, and retelling stories she has told countless time was her favourite pastime. Dishonouring her by not listening attentively was out of the question, obviously – she might not be the mistress of the House anymore, not since her husband passed away three years ago, but she was still the mother of the current one, a prestigious enough role, especially as Mr. Burke appeared to be entirely in her pocket. Everybody was treating the old lady with all the courtesy they could find in themselves.

Harry went on to describe his classes, which according to him were "fascinating" and "fun" (a compliment, Alduin supposed – if only he wasn't spending the entirety of them by wanting to rip his hair out) and much better than the ones in Muggle school. Alduin made another mental note, this time to make Harry tone down mentioning his Muggle life so much. No need to remind everyone of his roots.

They managed to pass dinner in this way, and once they relocated to the drawing room, Alexandra smiled at Harry and said: "Well, now I am ready to answer your questions."

Harry bit his lip, and Alduin made another mental note. "I guess...I mean, the first question I wanted to ask was why did Riddle go to kill my parents in the first place? I mean, my cousin told me they made a stand, but what does that mean?"

Alexandra sighed. "Have you ever heard of Albus Dumbledore?"

Harry frowned. "I think he was in that book about history my cousin gave me...he defeated some bad guy, didn't he?"

"Yes. He is the headmaster of Hogwarts, and generally considered the most powerful wizard alive. He defeated Grindewald some fifty years ago – that was another evil wizard, though not as bad as Riddle. Well, when Riddle started to spread his influence, Dumbledore founded this organization. It was called the Order of the Phoenix – because Dumbledore has a pet phoenix – and it united people who wanted to fight Riddle under Dumbledore's leadership. Both of your parents joined, once they were of age, and took part in some very significant actions against Riddle and his supporters. And now we enter the realm of speculation. Dumbledore is very tight lipped about the reasons for the attack on your parents – as he is about everything – and ex-Death Eaters are not exactly flaunting their knowledge today. However, it seems that what set the events in motion was a prophecy. No one – again, apart from Dumbledore – knows what it said, but Riddle found out about it and shortly afterwards your parents stopped appearing in public and taking part in missions and went into hiding. They spent almost two years like that, going deeper and deeper undercover, better and better protected, as attempts to attack them grew more frequent. In the end, they decided on the ultimate way to protect themselves – the Fidelius Charm." Alexandra paused, and looked at Alduin. "Will you do the honours?"

"Gladly. Fidelius, Harry, is a charm that locks the secret of a location in the mind of a person, the Secret Keeper. Unless that person tells you where the place is, you cannot find it. You will not see it even if you stand right in front of it. The person is the only weakness of the place. It has to be someone who doesn't regard it as their home, if it is to be really strong, so that complicates the use of that spell. In fact, it weakens the spell when the Secret Keeper is on the premises. As I am sure you already guessed, they choose Sirius Black as their Secret Keeper. Usually the fear is that the person will be caught and tortured and so forced to reveal the information – but there was no torture necessary to make Black speak..."

Alduin fell silent as they waited for Harry to process this information. "So all of this happened because of a prophecy?" He asked at length.

"No one really knows for sure, but it is the most plausible theory," Alexandra replied. "What is known as a historical fact is that at one point something happened that made your parents go into hiding, hiding that gradually deepened. It is reasonably safe to deduce, given what followed, that it was because something happened to make Riddle target them specifically. As to what that something what, as I've said, it's speculation. But there are rumours from various sources about a woman whose ancestor was a famous Seer – and these things usually run in families – meeting with Dumbledore in a clandestine pub, and a Death Eater was caught listening at the door. Immediately afterwards, your parents went into hiding, and the Seer in question was employed at Hogwarts, even though Dumbledore showed every inclination to do away with Divination classes until then. The conclusion most historians come to is that she made a prophecy, heard by the Death Eater, about your parents – or, possibly, about you. Which brings us to the second question about that night – how come you survived, and Riddle was destroyed?"

Harry nodded.

"I know Alduin told you I should try to answer this, as a historian, but it really encroaches on his fields of expertise as well. But I admit that he hadn't had as much time to study it, what with being in a coma and all. But, once again, no one knows for sure. Dumbledore proposes one theory, and given that he no doubt has facts no one else has access to, most people are inclined to believe him. What he says is that your mother willingly gave her life to protect you, which formed a strong kind of magical protection, one that Riddle couldn't get through, because if there was one branch of magic he never could do anything about, it was love magic."

Harry was frowning. "Do you think this is what happened?"

Alexandra shook her head. "At the very least, Dumbledore is oversimplyfying. Can you see how I know that for sure?"

Harry tried to figure it out, but was unsuccessful, and Alexandra explained: "Your mother is not the only woman to offer her life for the life of her child in history of mankind, and yet you are the only one to survive the killing curse. Yes, there were some supporting circumstances here – you were completely defenseless and innocent (the older the child, the worse it would have worked), and it was the killing curse – likely it wouldn't work at all against a spell that was less Dark. But still, there are many more cases like this through history – even many more just during Riddle's reign of terror – and no repetitions. So there must have been something more. Your mother either must have known some particular spell or ritual to strengthen this, or something completely different happened. Without knowing more about it, we can only speculate."

"Why doesn't Dumbledore tell anyone more?" Harry demanded.

Alexandra seemed to somehow shrug without moving her shoulders. "That's just the way he is. He has some good reasons for it, of course, a little knowledge in the wrong hands can be very dangerous, but he takes it to the absolute extreme."

"Didn't my parents mind?"

It was Alduin who answered this time. "James, your father, never asked too many questions, to be honest. He trusted Dumbledore implicitly and felt no need to doubt his leadership. It was like this with most people who joined the Order."

"You didn't?" Harry continued probing.

"No. I was no fan of Riddle, but I dislike Dumbledore's way of directing everyone and pretending that it was either him or the Dark side. You need to understand, Harry, that your father's starting position was very different from mine. His great-grandfather was an old friend of Dumbledore's from school, and his grandparents and parents were part of the basis of Dumbledore's support group, together with the Weasleys and the Longbottoms."

Alexandra stepped in again here. "This group functioned in a simple way – they recognized Dumbledore's brilliance and provided financial means to develop it. The original generation, those who were Dumbledore's age and older, were treating him more like condescending patrons. Their children, however, started to admire him greatly, he became the brilliant man who was always visiting and fairly radiating power, so much cooler than their parents, you understand. And then the next generation – the one of your grandparents...well, they grew up knowing Dumbledore was the hero who defeated Grindewald, which was the defining event of their childhood. They admired him greatly, and handed this admiration down to their children, who joined Dumbledore's Order without hesitation, because they have always been told to follow the man."

"I, however," Alduin continued, "was never told that. My family belonged to a different clique, one that respected Dumbledore for his academic achievements but had strong reservations about some of the other things he did. The motto of that group was that if only Dumbledore had been a Ravenclaw instead of a Gryffindor, everything would have been much better. His faults were readily recognized at out house, and so I saw them and was not prompt to join his club when I saw the way it was run. That is only partly Dumbledore's fault – when you have an organization full of your admirers, your options are limited. He certainly never seemed to mind, though, but that is just my opinion."

Harry was frowning, and Alduin felt sorry that they had to shatter his simple idea of the world world with such complicated notions so soon. But he saw no way to tell the story simply. "I think you should go to bed now," he said. "You learned a lot new today, and you need time to think about it, and sleep on it too."

Harry just nodded and left with a polite "good night." Alduin wondered what he was going to think about all of this.

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Harry was dismayed. When he read about Dumbledore in that history book, it sounded like the perfect superhero – defeating the villain and all. In the stories he knew, no one ever had to wonder if the hero told everyone all he could and if maybe less people would have died if he just discussed the situation with someone, instead of insisting on doing everything alone. Harry didn't like thinking about this, and decided that he wouldn't, not until he met Dumbledore in person. And once he did, he would ask about the details of how he survived, because Miss Burke was right, his mum couldn't have been the only mum to ever die for her child, so how come he survived? He bet his mother had been a really powerful witch and did something really clever, not quickly enough to save herself, but at least something to save him. He wished he knew what it was.

And besides, how did Dumbledore know it was her who did it? He wasn't there, was he? Maybe both of his parents did something together. He must remember to ask Miss Burke about it. Dumbledore sounded rather fishy to him, but he decided that other than that, what he knew now only meant that his mum and dad were the superheroes in the story. That made it a little easier to deal with the sadness he felt when he mused about the whole thing.

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It took another week and two more visits from Alexandra before Alduin felt he could hand over some of Harry's classes to her without the boy feeling like he was being dumped on a stranger. It also gave Alexandra plenty of time to observe the young boy, causing her to say to Alduin in a private moment: "I think he is ready. He knows how to behave himself, and he is conversant enough in our world to know what people are talking about during a casual meeting."

Alduin sighed. He suspected as much, but had been trying to avoid it. Because once Harry was ready to meet other people, there was no avoiding the precedence of blood: he would have to meet Neville Longbottom, and that meant Alduin would have to visit his grandmother.

And so, one morning that Harry's education was in Alexandra's hands, Alduin took a deep breath and Flooed to Longbottom Hall.

Looking around the ghastly receiving room, he bitterly regretted his cousin wasn't closely related to the Malfoys instead.

The butler elf appeared almost immediately. "You name, sir?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"Mr. Travers."

"Please wait here for a little while, sir," the unnerved creature asked and disappeared again, only to be back almost before Alduin managed to sit down, with a: "The mistress will see you now, follow me, please, sir."

Alduin walked through the door on his right to a morning parlour, where Augusta Longbottom was sitting in all her splendour.

"Alduin Travers," she said in that unpleasant voice of hers. "Well, well, well, I wondered when you would get up from that hospital bed. It was a shame, for a man your age, and the heir to your house, nonetheless, to be just lying there."

"Mrs. Longbottom," Alduin said simply.

"Well sit down, don't stand about in such a silly manner! And where is Harry Potter? You should have brought him with you, he and Neville are second cousins, after all, and I know very well you have taken the boy under your wing. Very clever of you, that. No use contesting it, I expect, but I would like to keep a close eye on the way you raise the boy nonetheless. No making a Ravenclaw stuffy old arse out of him!"

"Harry's mornings are devoted to education, madam," Alduin replied in a carefully controlled voice, "but I do come with an invitation for tea some day this week, if it would be convenient, so that Harry could meet his cousin."

She pursed her lips. "Well, let me see...yes, we will come on Thursday. Though I don't see how taking him away from books for one morning would have hurt! As I expected, you are trying to turn him into a know-it-all."

Alduin managed to hold in the sigh, but it was a near thing. Mrs. Longbottom had married above herself, and was in fact to this day given as an example to young members of Noble and Most Ancient Houses of why one should never ever marry out of one's class. Augusta was a pureblood, of course, but not from a very significant family, and unfortunately, her not being raised among the crème de la crème showed in everything, beginning with her taste – or lack thereof – and ending with her manners. Or lack thereof.

"We will expect you on Thursday, then, madam. And how are you?"

"Well enough, there's plenty of strength left in these old bones." Given that she was just past middle-age by wizarding standards, that wasn't exactly surprising, though maybe somewhat regrettable. "And you, have you caught up with the changes they made in the last nine years?"

"I have to admit that I find the reality of Cornelius Fudge as a minister of magic somewhat hard to adjust to." Alduin said frankly.

"Ha! Don't we all. Except for the Malfoys and their friends who put him there, I expect." Of course she would get a dad at Lucius in whenever she could.

"If it indeed was Lucius who put the minister there, as you say, then I would be willing to bet he is regretting it now," Alduin replied diplomatically. "He does have a marked sense of style and pride, after all, and Fudge is not exactly improving our international image."

"Should have thought about that before arranging it, shouldn't he."

"Mrs. Longbottom, I am aware that you would have preferred Dumbledore on that post, but he did reject the offer." As well as the countless before it. Say what you want about the man, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Alduin almost mentioned the other man though of as a possible candidate, before realizing that saying the name of Crouch in front of Mrs. Longbottom of all people wouldn't have been precisely tactful. Nevertheless, it hung awkwardly in the air, unvoiced, and Alduin hurried to make his excuses.


	6. Longbottom Hall

AN: So, here's another one. A bit shorter, it just worked out that way, because a relatively long scene follows.

Click that link on the top of my author page? Pretty please?

I don't own them. Augusta would hate the idea.

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Preparing to meet the first wizard of his age ever, Harry was thinking about the strange turn his life had taken. He still sometimes doubted he would be allowed to stay at Travers Manor, but it was less and less often. He had been here for almost three weeks, after all. He now dressed like a wizard, talked like a wizard, and he was used to house-elves popping in and out of places, and to his cousin whirling away and back home in green flames. He read about witches and wizards every day, and even in his classes, there were things like that little spell Alduin used which found the mistakes in his maths homework for him.

Harry was looking forward to meeting his second cousin, Neville, and he was looking forward to Christmas, the first Christmas that promised to be something special.

He was a little nervous about Mrs. Longbottom, though. His cousin warned him that she was a strict and sometimes a little unpleasant woman, but that Harry should have patience with her and always be polite, because she suffered a lot in her life. "Also," Alduin had said, "that is the true measure of a well-bred wizard. Everybody is polite to people who are polite to them; but a truly well-bred wizard is always unerringly polite, no matter how the other side acts, remember that."

Trying to keep that lesson in mind, Harry descended the stairs to wait for their visitors in the afternoon parlour. He was wearing one of his more posh day robes, as he had been instructed to do. They were nice, and he felt good in them. His cousin was also dressed to the nines, and as Harry set down next to him on the sofa, he muttered: "Remember, Harry. Always polite, and take Neville up to see your room as soon as politely possible – thirty minutes should be appropriate, I believe."

And then the door was opening, and Tobby was announcing: "Mrs. Longbottom and Mr. Neville Longbottom, sir."

A tall and severe-looking elderly lady entered, accompanied by a chubby boy who looked incredibly nervous. The lady looked directly at Harry and said: "Ah. So that's you."

Harry immediately understood what his cousin meant about her. Just the look she was giving him seemed rude, and not unlike the one he was used to receiving from Aunt Petunia. But this woman wasn't in charge of him, and so Harry squared his shoulders and said: "Good afternoon, Mrs. Longbottom."

Alduin seconded him, and added: "And Mr. Longbottom. A pleasure to meet you."

Harry nodded his head to the boy. "Hello, Neville."

Mrs. Longbottom nudged her grandson, who stuttered: "Ha-hallo, Harry."

"Please," Alduin said, "do sit down."

The tea was brought, and as they started on their food, Mrs. Longbottom said: "So, how do you find living in Travers Manor?"

"It's great," Harry enthused. He was told to avoid mentioning his life with the Dursleys, and so he couldn't do any comparisons, but he said: "I like the lessons my cousin is giving me, they are much more fun than at Muggle school. And I have lots of interesting books and comics to read."

"It's as I thought," Mrs. Longbottom said, dissatisfied. "He is trying to make a Ravenclaw out of you. But your father was a Gryffindor, don't you forget that."

Harry swallowed his first response, which was pointing out that so had his mother. Alduin never told him not to mention her, but it seemed somehow rude, like he would be correcting Mrs. Longbottom. Instead, said: "I know, my cousin told me. But, I mean, it's cold and snowing outside, so I think the weather is just perfect for reading a book in bed with a cup of tea...I'm looking forward to trying flying when the weather is better."

"Hm, that's more like it. I like your spirit, young man! You are right that the weather has been uncommonly harsh this year..." and with that, the conversation topic turned. Alduin gave Harry a small, almost imperceptible nod to indicate his satisfaction. Harry was proud of himself.

He watched the clock anxiously, and after half an hour, he turned to Neville, who had stayed silent up to now, and said: "Would you like to go and see my room?"

Neville nervously looked to his grandmother.

"I think it would be an excellent idea," Alduin interceded.

"Well, off you go, Neville, but don't break anything! And behave!"

"Yes, Gran," the boy said, and followed Harry upstairs.

Once there, Harry showed him his books and Martin Miggs comics. Neville looked at the second exhibit longingly. "I always liked those," he said, "but Gran would never let me have them, because she thought they weren't appropriate." Then he bit his lip, like he said too much.

"I think my cousin wasn't too thrilled when he saw me pick them up in the shop either," Harry noted, smiling, "but he bought them for me, in the end, along with lots of other books. Maybe he knew people would accuse him of making a Ravenclaw out of me otherwise."

Neville looked uncomfortable, and Harry cursed himself for mentioning it. "I think maybe he is, a little," he added to make Neville feel better, "but then it's kind of natural I guess. It's a little like being a fan of a Quidditch team, isn't it?" He'd almost said football, but caught himself in time.

Neville smiled. "Maybe," he said, "I never thought about it like that. Yeah."

"Are you a fan of one?"

"I've never seen a match in my life..." The boy muttered, apparently embarassed.

"Neither have I," Harry replied cheerfully, "but I read a lot of old Quidditch magazines and I think Montrose Magpies are the coolest, and I would love to see them play one day."

"I like reading about Puddlemere United," Neville admitted.

"They aren't bad too. Or the Tornadoes! This Roderick Plumpton guy was so cool."

"I like the famous Seeker of the Puddlemere, but I can't remember his name now..." Neville said sadly.

"Oh, I know the one you mean!" Harry replied excitedly. "The one who complained the Snitch was too easy to catch, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I like him too, that's my favourite part of Puddlemere. But do you like their robes?"

To his shame, Harry had to be called by Sibby to take Neville back down. He had completely forgotten to watch the time!

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Alduin rather thought that in spite of all those accusations of trying to make a Ravenclaw out of Harry, he deserved some Gryffindor praise for his bravery – he had, after all, spent an hour alone with Augusta Longbottom to give Harry time to meet his cousin.

Once that purgatory was over, he turned to his charge and asked: "So, what did you think of Neville Longbottom?"

"He is nice. He is kinda shy, I mean, but it got better in time, and anyway I think it's probably always better when he is not with his grandmother," Harry said frankly.

"Can you wonder?" Alduin replied, his eyebrow raised.

"No." Harry sniggered. "She reminds me of Aunt Petunia a little."

Alduin frowned. "That is being rather too strict, I would say. Mrs. Longbottom has accomplished many things in her life, she had just become embittered by the events. Your Aunt is only bitter."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Harry immediately looked ashamed of himself.

Alduin shook his head. "Don't apologize. You can be honest with me, Harry, what I want you to be careful about is what you say to other people."

Harry nodded.

"We will doubtless be asked for a return visit," Alduin continued, "and I cannot guarantee that you will be allowed to leave us and go somewhere with Neville, as you were here. I can promise, though, that if you aren't, we are going to stay for an hour at the most. Do you think you are up to it?"

Harry nodded. "It will be interesting to see another wizarding home," he said.

A day later, the weather finally cleared a little, and so at lunch, Alduin said: "Would you like to go outside and try flying today?"

"Yes!" Harry cried enthusiastically. Then he controlled himself. "Sorry. But I am a little excited about it."

Alduin chuckled. "Mrs. Longbottom should see you now. Which reminds me, she stopped by here this morning during your history class with Miss Burke, and asked us for tea for Monday."

Harry nodded. "All right then. At least I can tell her I went flying."

"Let's see how it goes first."

It went above any expectations, Alduin's or Harry's. Alduin was prepared to give his cousin slow and detailed instruction, only to find out the boy was a natural and even without any training probably surpassed his own abilities. He was speeding through the air – low to the ground, as Alduin had instructed him – and laughing. Alduin sighed. Perhaps he had wanted to make a Ravenclaw out of Harry, just a little, but apparently, you couldn't turn a Potter into a Travers just like that.

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The visit at the Longbottoms went better than expected too. Harry was allowed to go to Neville's room, and found out that Neville had all kinds of interesting plants there. It never really occurred to Harry to be interested in plants, but he had to admit that the ones he found here were something else.

Neville also unbent rather more quickly than last time, almost as soon as they left his grandmother's company, and they spent a pleasant hour continuing their discussion about Quidditch. Harry also spoke more about his flying experience – something Neville was rather jealous of, since his grandmother never allowed him on a broom, which Harry found outrageous. True, Neville was a little clumsy on the ground, but that didn't mean he would be the same in the air, did it? And besides, even if he didn't have much talent for flying, that was no reason not to let him fly!

They also discussed Christmas, which was only two days away now. All of Neville's extended family was going to come to Longbottom Hall for Christmas – or that was was Neville said, and it puzzled Harry a little, since wasn't he part of that family too? So he asked Neville in detail and it turned out it really meant his grandmother's extended family. It went unsaid, but Harry gathered it was partly because there wasn't much of Neville's left.

"I'm also going to visit my parents in hospital," Neville said quietly.

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say.

He also realized he was unsure what was he going to do for Christmas. He should certainly ask his cousin!

He did so as soon as they arrived back home. "I thought we would simply celebrate here," was the answer. "Miss Burke would join us for most of Christmas Day."

Harry nodded. "Neville said he was going to visit his parents in hospital," he said, "and so I though...I mean, my parents do have graves somewhere, don't they?"

"Naturally."

"I think I would like to see it," he muttered.

"If you wish..."

"Could we go tomorrow?" Harry pressed on.

"On Christmas Eve?" Alduin seemed surprised. "Again, Harry, it's up to you..."

Harry thought about it for a moment. It seemed right in a way. "Yes, I think I would like that."

"Very well then, get ready for a trip to the traditional wizarding village of Godric's Hollow."


	7. Godric's Hollow

AN: Guys, you could have told me there was no link on the top of my author page…fanfiction dot net decided to delete all link for some reason, because why not, right? So now I present the address here, just copy it to your browser without the spaces. Please? This is the last chance, my paper is rapidly approaching. _goo. gl/forms /FQuqpzABTv_

Also, a warning: there is a discussion of religious topics after the break. I have my own ideas about the history of the wizarding world, and religion does play a part in it, so if it bothers you, stop reading after they come back home.

I own nothing!

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Alduin Apparated Harry to the forest close to Godric's Hollow that was usually used for this purpose, and as they walked, he explained: "This is not a purely wizarding village – there is only one like that in Britain, and that is Hogsmeade, near Hogwarts. But there are some more like Godric's Hollow, where there lives an above-average number of wizarding families. It normally means they were founded by wizards, in times before the Statute of Secrecy, and the wizards were joined by their Muggle friends. After the Statute came into play, the wizarding families theoretically hid themselves, but still, the atmosphere in those places is...different. You will see."

"I don't know if I will see the difference," Harry noted. "I have never been in a Muggle village. The Dursleys never let me go on field trips with school, because it would cost them money."

Alduin gritted his teeth. "Then I will take you one day," he said, "it's important to know what to expect. Anyway, here we are..."

They entered the village and walked to the square. "The first thing you need to see," Alduin explained to Harry, "is the memorial."

He led him to it and Harry watched, amazed, as it turned from a nondescript Muggle thing into a statue of a woman, a man and a child. "Those are your parents," Alduin said, "and the baby is supposed to be you."

Harry admired the statue. "Did they look like this?"

"Don't you know?"

"I never saw any pictures, and I don't remember them much at all."

Alduin gritted his teeth again. "Remind me, once we are back home, to show you some old family albums with James in them. I am afraid I don't have many pictures of your mother, except from the wedding. But anyway, yes, this is what they looked like, more or less, or what they would have looked like if they were made of white marble."

"My mum was very pretty, wasn't she?"

"Wait till you get to some photos. She was beautiful," Alduin replied honestly. He had not been an admirer of Lily Potter, but one could hardly deny her good looks.

Harry sighed and watched for a while longer before asking: "They are buried here?"

"No, they are in the churchyard. Come with me," and Alduin led him through the kissing gate to the rows of graves. First, he pointed to the grave of Ignotus Peverell. "One of your distant ancestors," he said, "very likely the most famous one. A great inventor, as well as his two brothers. Have you read the Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"Some of them, yes."

"The Three Brothers?"

"I think so." Harry scrunched up his forehead. "It's the one about the Deathly Hallows, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's a tale that sprung from a real beginning, which were the three historical Peverell brothers, great wizards and inventors," Alduin explained as they continued their way among the graves. "Ignotus was the youngest, and his most celebrated creation was the Invisibility Cloak. He handed it down in his family, eldest son to eldest son. Then, about three hundred years ago, one of them died without children and left all he had to his sister, who was by that time married to a Potter. And so it came into your family. James had it, but I'm not sure where it is now. Hopefully in your vault at Gringott's."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "Are you really telling me that I own one of the Deathly Hallows?"

"Yes, but don't go believing that nonsense about being a master of death or something," Alduin cautioned. "It is simply a very powerful artefact. Don't go telling people it's one of the Hallows, either. They might believe the legends, and might well try to take it off you."

Harry nodded, very impressed. "This is so cool," he muttered. "Do we know where the other two are?"

"No. The second brother's family line is effectively extinct, and it isn't known what they last did to it, though it is known that they had it. As you known, the wand didn't pass as an inheritance, and its bloody history is too tangled to unwrap easily. There are several theories as to who has it. One of the most prominent ones says it's Dumbledore."

"And no one really knows where the second one is? Not even a theory? Who was the family who had it?"

"The Gaunts...whose last descendant, incidentally, was one Tom Riddle."

Harry looked scandalized. "Wait, so I'm related to Riddle?"

"Harry, the Peverell brothers lived in the thirteenth century. You are probably related to every single British wizard who was alive at that time, one way or another, and so was Riddle. But, anyway, regarding the Hallows, what is important is that no one ever heard him boast of having the Stone, and it seems likely he would have told someone if he had it, so it was probably lost or hidden by the family some time before him."

Harry mused about it as they walked to his parents' grave. There, he stood looking silently and then sighed. "I haven't even brought a candle."

Wordlessly, Alduin conjured one, and Harry left it there, along with a conjured wreath of tinsel.

"Marry Christmas, Mum and Dad," he said sadly. Alduin allowed him to contemplate the grave in peace. When the boy turned to leave on his own accord, he asked: "What does it mean, the last enemy to be destroyed is death?"

"It's a quote from the Bible, meant to commemorate the fall of Voldemort as well as your parents' heroism, by which they defeated death, in a way. In the Bible, it means God is the one who destroys death," Alduin explained.

Harry frowned. "Does he? How? I mean, people are dying all the time, aren't they?"

Alduin sighed. "I suppose you never had any religious education classes?"

"No..."

"Explaining this would require explaining the entire Christian dogmatics. Maybe Christmas is the right time for it, but I would certainly rather do it at home by the fire, if you don't mind."

Harry nodded. They were passing graves, and he turned and looked at one and said: "Dumbledore? Did his family live here?"

"For a while, yes. His mother and sister are buried here."

"I can see what you meant by a wizaring village – it looks quite normal, but secretly it's all different." He noticed his cousin was leading him in a different direction than where they came from, and asked: "Where are we going?"

"To see the house where your parents died. It was kept as a kind of shrine."

Harry nodded. On the way, he said: "You told me not to tell people that the cloak my father had was a Deathly Hallow, but doesn't everyone know? If they know the Peverells had it, I mean?"

"Not really. For one, most people do not know the three brothers are the Peverell brothers. Actually, most people believe it's just a made-up story. And even those who know who the brothers were do not know the Potters are related to them in an almost direct line, even though it isn't a secret. And even the few people who do know this wouldn't know that the last Peverell bequeathed the cloak to his sister. He had been married when he died, and so many would assume it went to his widow. And while James never kept it exactly a secret that he had an invisibility cloak, outside of family, I think mostly only his friends and members of the Order of the Phoenix knew. So even though it might have occurred to someone that if Ignotus Peverell had the cloak, and Potters are his direct descendants and have a cloak, so it could be it…there were probably very few people who possessed all of these information. Dumbledore, certainly, but apart from him? James' crowd was never particularly interested in these things, in theoretical education...something else they got from Dumbledore, probably." Alduin tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but he succeeded only partially.

"What do you mean? You said he did know these things."

Alduin nodded. "Yes, it is a bit of a paradox. Dumbledore himself is very broadly educated, but under his leadership, Hogwarts became extremely practically oriented. The only purely theoretical subject that remained is History, and that is taught so badly it's as good as non-existent. No one is entirely sure what Dumbledore means by this, but it is one of the reasons he is not as popular among the Ravenclaw clique as he was with your father's friends."

Harry himself was not exactly a fan of theoretical subjects, but he had to admit that if not taking them meant one missed such a connection as this and so didn't know there was one of the Deathly Hallows right in front of him, then maybe they had some merit.

They came to the half-destroyed house and looked at it in silence, Harry reading the plaque. When they turned from it, they noticed a very old lady nearby.

Alduin suddenly smiled broadly and exclaimed: "Mrs. Bagshot!"

"Is that Alduin Travers?"

"It is indeed, ma'am."

The lady shook her finger at him. "You should be ashamed of yourself, young man, for not coming to see me sooner! I know very well you have been released from hospital many months ago! Some people still talk to me, you know!"

Alduin grinned sheepishly. "Abdullah told on me, didn't he? And he calls himself a friend..."

"Don't you dare blaming him for your own laziness!"

"It wasn't laziness! I was busy. Let me introduce my new ward, Mr. Potter."

He put Harry forward, and the boy smiled uncertainly and said: "How do you do."

"How do you do, Mr. Potter. It is quite charming to meet you – I last saw you when you were one year old! It's good to see Alduin is taking care of you. Would you two care to come for a cup of tea?"

Alduin assented, and they followed Bathilda to her cottage. "You are right that I should have contacted you sooner," he said, "if only to be able to introduce Miss Burke to you. As far as I know, you two haven't met."

"No. I rarely meet new people these days. I'm getting very ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It will be a loss felt dearly once you pass through the veil. But I hope you will do me the honour of allowing me to introduce Miss Burke to you. History is her passion, and I think you would have a lot to talk about." Thinking about it, it really was unforgiveable that he hadn't done it yet. Harry was obviously occupying more of his thoughts than he had thought.

"I know her great-great-grandmother quite well, but she isn't very mentally fit these days anymore, unfortunately. It shows in her letters. The current lady of the house is something of a friend of mine, too, though we don't have many common interests – both her and her husband, as I'm sure you know, are Potions enthusiasts. The grandmother and mother are no more than distant acquintances, and so I never met the youngest one. A pity, it seems."

"I'll try to remedy that as soon as possible. Now tell me," he said as they entered her house and took their seats, "have you seen Abdullah recently? I haven't had time for more than brief morning visits in the last month, I'm afraid."

"I saw him a little over a month ago, so nothing new I can tell you. The children are true dears, but then you would expect Isobel's and his children to be such."

"I can tell you with perfect confidence that Abdullah is often very far from being a true dear."

"Oh, don't think I don't know." Her elf brought tea, and she turned to Harrry and asked: "How are you enjoying your time with your cousin?"

"It's been great!" Harry enthused. "I even went flying for the first time a few days ago, and I met Neville Longbottom and he's really nice..."

"Can't deny he is a Potter, can you?" Mrs. Bagshot noted. "What about your studies?"

"Oh, yes, my cousin and Miss Burke have been teaching me -" here the old lady gave Alduin an almost imperceptible look, to which he slightly nodded and she smiled - "and it's all very interesting. I think I like History the most."

"I am very glad to hear it! And I hope Professor Binns won't manage to spoil it for you...Merlin knows he was boring enough when he taught he, and he had still been alive then!" The she turned back to Alduin and said in a serious voice: "Tell me about coming back to the world. Was it hard?"

Alduin sighed and look at Harry. "Very." He said. "I don't want to go into details, but the radical change in political situation made it complicated. The first month, I just sat at home and read old newspapers, and later corresponded with Abdullah and Mercurius. Nathan and Kingsley, too, later."

"Did you contact Eliza?"

"I did. We even saw each other once. It was painful, both for her and for me. I never invited her again, and we mostly avoid each other at parties. Perhaps it will get better in time, but now..."

The old lady nodded.

"I started to ask old friends for visits later, and that got me invited to social gatherings. Within three months, I was effectively back, but I still encounter gaps in knowledge sometimes. It is...unpleasant."

"I can imagine. Here, have some trifle."

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They Flooed home from Mrs. Bagshot's cottage just in time to get ready for dinner. Over the food, Harry asked: "What did she mean by saying that Professor Binns was boring enough when he was alive? Is he dead? How can he teach if he is dead?"

"He is a ghost...and , unfortunately, a very bad teacher."

"Oh, right, ghosts. I keep forgetting all those things are real." Harry muttered.

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "Then remind me to take you to the attic after dinner. We have one family ghost living here, but she normally keeps to herself and doesn't come down. I hope she won't mind a little interruption of her solitude."

"Wow, a family ghost!" Harry grinned, then ate silently for a moment, contemplating this new information. Afterwards, he said: "Okay, so how does the idea of destroying death work, then?"

Alduin took a very deep breath and exchanged a look with Alexandra. "You know that Jesus died on the cross, right?"

"Of course," Harry replied, sounding offended.

"And you know he rose from the dead?"

Harry seemed much less certain about this second point.

"Well, he did – according to the Christian belief, that is. And doing that, he defeated death in a way, you see – because he became alive again. And for reasons that I would really much rather not go into, because it's very complicated, that also ensured that other people who die can rise from the dead again, an so no one will really have to stay dead – so, death is destroyed."

"But people still die," Harry repeated stubbornly.

"But you see, they don't stay dead, so in a manner of speaking it's not really death, because the whole point of death is that it's permanent, isn't it? This could instead be seen as a very long period of sleep." Harry still looked unconvinced and Alduin sighed. "I really should have found a Gryffindor to explain this, as unnatural as that sentence sounds."

"Why?"

It was Alexandra who explained: "Because traditionally, most Gryffindor families are Christian, because Godric was."

"And you aren't?" Harry seemed surprised by the idea, which given his lack of knowledge about what it meant, Alduin found rather ironic.

"No," he replied. "Rowena Ravenclaw was actually a pagan, though that tradition wasn't exactly preserved till today. That is the kind of religion that requires community and big rituals, and with Muggles abandoning it, that is not really possible to achieve. But many of us do base or worldviews on ancient Greek philosophy, which was pagan, though of a different sort than Rowena's."

"Pagan?" Now Harry looked almost scandalized.

"It doesn't mean we worship idols, Harry, at least not in the sense you understand it. I would try to explain, but I'm not sure you're quire ready for Proclus."

Harry apparently didn't even dare to ask who it was. "What were the other founders' religions, then?"

Alexandra took the word again. "Huflepuff was…well, today we would call it non-denominational." That answer didn't seem to help Harry much, so she elaborated: "It appears, from what we know, that she believed in some kind of one God, but not really in the Christian dogma, and she didn't have any problems with participating in the pagan rituals either. She was very down to earth, you see, and the old rituals channelled magic quite effectively, so she took part and didn't much worry about it. She actually seems to have been the least concerned about religion of all of the founders." She paused. "Slytherin was a wizarding Christian."

Harry seemed confused. "Wizarding Christian? What does that mean?"

"Back when Christianity was first spreading in Britain, there was a great controversy among wizards. As you can see in case of the founders, some embraced the new faith, some kept to the old gods and some avoided any clearly formulated religion altogether. In time, enmity started to grow between those who kept the old gods and the Christian wizards, because Muggle Christians persecuted the pagan Muggles strongly." Alexandra hesitated, then added: "It needs to be said that Christian witches and wizards never took part in this, the divisions in our society were always along different lines, but still, the pagan wizardkind asked how the Christians could be part of a group that acted this way. That was when a separate wizarding church was founded, one made up entirely of magical folk. Slytherin was actually one of the first proponents of that tradition, separating the wizarding church completely from the Muggle one."

"That wasn't really a problem at Hogwarts, though, was it?" Harry argued.

Alexandra shook her head. "Not with pure-blood students, but remember there are the Muggle-born, too. It actually created a big conflict between Gryffindor and Slytherin, big enough that it made Slytherin leave the school in the end. Nowadays, it is popular to interpret that conflict as being simply about Salazar's love of pure blood – incidentally, a view propagated by Riddle, and it took hold – but it's nonsense and everyone who knows a little about history knows it makes no sense. The International Statute of Secrecy, the law that says Muggles mustn't know about us, only came into effect seven hundred years later. Back then, there was no division between the two societies as there is now, and the first families were only then appearing who lived apart from Muggles. There was no such thing as purebloods, not as a social class, even though of course there were individuals like that. The ideas they like to pretend Salazar held...it wouldn't have made any sense at the time. No, it was about something else. Salazar didn't want to accept Muggleborn Christians, because he didn't trust their families not to turn against us, once the learned there were still pagans cherished at Hogwarts."

"But, I mean, didn't Ravenclaw mind too? She was a pagan, you said."

"Not as much as he did," Alduin answered for Alexandra, who took a sip of her wine to refresh herself.

Harry didn't understand. "But if she didn't mind, why did he care?"

"She wasn't the only pagan at school, Harry," Alexandra pointed out. "Many students were of Slytherin's opinion, or at least not as blithely optimistic as Helga and Godric, thinking that some safety precautions were necessary..."

"So who was right, then? Did something happen? With the Muggle families, I mean?"

Alexandra actually chuckled. "Each Hogwarts house has its own answer to that, I believe. The Ravenclaw one is that after Slytherin left, which made the atmosphere calmer, Rowena managed to convince the others to reinforce the school's defences, so that when the inevitable Muggle attack finally came, Hogwarts were untouchable."

"And the other versions?" Harry didn't seem too interested in the Ravenclaw opinion.

"The Slytherins say that the attack would have been successful if it wasn't for Slytherin's monster from the Chamber of Secrets, which defended the school. The Gryffindors say that it was the other way round, that the monster started to attack people and the Muggles only retaliated, and the school was saved by Gryffindor bravery. And the Hufflepuff version simply says that there was no real attack, that it was merely some kind of inside mishap at school."

"And you don't know which is true?" Harry sounded incredulous.

"No," Alexandra admitted. "We know that something serious happened at school at that point, something that at least somehow involved serious internal conflict, because the few records we have left that keep hinting at it make it clear they don't want to speak more plainly because they don't want to irritate anyone."

Harry frowned. "That's so weird. I mean, you know so many things in detail, and you don't know something this big?"

"This is how history often works, Harry," Alduin pointed out. "We only have word of the mouth, and as I have told you, it came up with four different versions."

There was a short silence as Harry finished his dessert, and then he asked: "So, is this why wizards and witches say Merlin instead of God? I mean, like thank Merlin instead of thank God? Because not everyone believes in God?"

Alduin considered. "Not exactly. Saying Merlin is actually a way to avoid offending anyone. The bitterness between Christian and non-Christian wizards grew when Christians started to persecute witches more strongly, in addition to the pagans. That is why nowadays, people tend to keep their religion very private and it is extremely impolite to ask about it or talk about it. We say Merlin instead of God because you don't want to remind people whose close friends were burned at stake in the name of that exact God that you are his follower too. Merlin is something all British witches and wizards can agree on – one of the few things, actually."

Harry was apparently in a debating mood, which pleased Alduin. "But, I mean," he said, "there is no witch burning going on anymore, is it? So, how could you meet someone whose friends were burned at stake?"

"There are still witch hunts in Africa, for example," Alduin pointed out, "but no, it doesn't happen in Britain any more. But it wasn't so long ago. It ended in the eighteenth century, and you have to remember, Harry, that witches and wizards live longer than Muggles. The last witness died about a hundred years ago, I believe, which means people who remember them and heard it from them first-hand are still alive. Mrs. Bagshot knew several personally, I believe. To speak of God in front of them was often seen as mortal offence. The tradition started this way, and is being kept because that's what happens with traditions."

"I'm sorry I asked you about it, then," Harry muttered.

Alduin smiled at him. "I told you not to be afraid to ask me things, Harry. I don't mind, but don't go asking people outside of close family."

"Not that I have much of that," Harry commented bitterly, then asked: "So my parents were Christians?"

"Your mother was your regular Church of England, as far as I know. Your father certainly was – as I've said, a good portion of the Gryffindor clique are."

Harry nodded and paused, apparently trying to come up with more questions. Drawing a blank, he asked: "Can we go see the ghost now?"

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AN: Because I wasn't buying that no one would figure out the DH thing, and that Slytherin would leave the school because of blood prejudice 700 years before the Statute (and that the others would have been friends with such a racist jerk).


	8. Christmas at Travers Manor

AN: Did you know you can be so consumed by one fandom you don't manage to as much as edit a chapter from another? It happened to me this summer. I spent it immersed in writing a Tolkien fanfic. Fortunately the rough draft of that monster is done, so I can return to a saner pace.

I'll try to update more frequently for a while now to make up for the almost two months long pause.

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The attic was shadowy but clean, and really, really large. „Miss Brigit?" Alduin called. „May we disturb you?"

Harry looked around, trying to guess where the ghost would come from, and was rather startled when it appeared through the wall.

It was a young lady dressed in rather elaborate robes, all silvery and see through. She looked at them intently and said: "What is it, Alduin?"

Harry's cousin made a small bow. "Allow me to introduce my ward, Mr. Potter. Harry, this is Miss Brigit Travers, my great-great-great-aunt."

"Good evening," Harry said a little uncertainly.

"Good evening to you as well. Why are you here?" The ghost asked sharply.

"Er..."

Alduin came to his help. "Mr. Potter has been raised by Muggles, and he has never met a ghost in his life. I was hoping you could talk to him for a moment, perhaps tell him about how you died?"

Harry gave Alduin a horrified look. Surely that was not appropriate? Miss Brigit noticed, and said: "You will find that most ghosts delight in talking about their death, unless there is something shameful about it." She frowned. "Well, mine own was a little shameful, but I still maintain it could not have been predicted..."

Alduin coughed.

"Yes, of course," Miss Brigit said, giving him a quick irritated look, before turning back to Harry. "Well, it was simple, really. I was working on developing a new, fantastic potion when my experimental batch acted completely unpredictably and exploded. I was just leaning over it, so...ah...it took me with it. But I was on the brink of a great discovery, I just knew it, and my death would set research back decades...so I came back to finish what I started."

"And did you?" Harry asked curiously.

"I would say so. Polyjuice Potion is my work!" She stated proudly.

"That is a potion that allows you to change into someone else, in appearance, down to every last detail," Alduin helpfully explained.

"Wow," Harry muttered. "So there could be people looking exactly like me walking around right now?"

"Not very easily," Miss Brigit replied. "They would need a piece of you first – a hair or a nail or something – and then, one batch only lasts an hour, thankfully. It could get very dangerous otherwise."

"It is dangerous as it is," Alduin said with a smile. "But fortunately, there are charms that can detect it or see though it, and even cancel the effects, even though those are extremely complicated. But Miss Brigit was a notable inventor in her lifetime, and she is still an honorary member of all respectable potions societies."

"Yes, and in fact, I have a review of a new potion proposal to dictate, so if you will excuse me for now..." Miss Brigit was already drifting away before anyone had time to react.

"Yes, of course," Alduin said quickly. "We are sorry to have brothered you, and thank you for your time."

Harry followed Alduin back downstairs, and on the way, asked: "So does Miss Brigit know Miss Burke's great-grandmother? Because, you know, Mrs. Bagshot said that she was a potion enthusiast, and..."

"Indeed she does. In fact," Alduin seemed to think a moment, "yes, I believe she tutored her for a while."

"Wait, so Mrs. Burke remembers Miss Brigit while she was still alive?" Harry asked. Surely Miss Brigit died too soon for that?

"Oh no," Alduin corrected, "she tutored her as a ghost!"

Harry shook his head. This was a strange, strange world.

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Harry woke up excited on Christmas morning. Yesterday had been great, he even got to meet a proper ghost, and today was to be the first Christmas of his memory when Dudley wouldn't mock him for not getting any presents.

It was early, he knew, so he tried to read in bed a little, but he couldn't concentrate and was very happy when Sibby finally brought him his morning tea and he knew it was time to get up. He was dressed in no time, and down in the breakfast parlour to admire the tree, which now boasted a pile of gifts under it. Harry grinned. His cousin must have been very good indeed!

The man himself appeared shortly afterwards, and Harry could hear Miss Burke arriving by the Floo. "So, ready to distribute gifts?" She asked him when she entered the room.

"Me?"

"Of course, who else?"

Harry shrugged and started on it – only to see that the first gift to be found there was his! He turned to his cousin, stunned. "You didn't have to..."

Alduin stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Harry shook his head and kept silent – he learned enough it the last almost month to know that it wasn't polite to discuss things like this in front of guests, but as his pile of gifts grew, he was more and more mortified.

Finally, everything was distributed, and Alduin said: "Come on, Harry, start unwrapping." Seeing the expression in his eyes, he added: "Half of this are gifts more for me than for you, anyway."

Harry could sort of see what his cousin meant – it was a lot of books and clothes, but there were some new comics too, and..."What's this?" He frowned at several strange wooden tables.

"They are displayers," Alduin explained. "Each of them has something captured on them – it says what it is above. Some have Quidditch matches, some have theatre plays and one has a duelling competition, if I remember correctly."

Harry almost said, 'so like a small TV', but he caught himself, remembering he wasn't supposed to mention his time with the Muggles.

He kept the largest package till the end, and as he unwrapped it he almost stopped breathing. It was a brand new racing broom, one Nimbus Two Thousand. He started at his cousin, open-mouthed.

Alduin smiled in response.

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Alexandra stayed with them until tea, which meant Harry had to control his desire to go and try his new broom immediately. Alduin could see it was a chore for him, but the displayers distracted him a little. He did not speak much, apparently overwhelmed by the presents he received, and so Alduin and Alexandra were free to remain reading their new books in the drawing room, discussing the ideas in them, in the best Ravenclaw Christmas tradition.

"Oh, this is absurd," Alduin muttered, irritated.

"What is it?" Alexandra asked.

"Transfiro proposes here that it could be theoretically possible to create a form of time-travel that would allow you to change history," Alduin explained his outburst.

"What?" Alexandra looked up from her book, startled. "And the conservation law…?"

"He claims he found a way around it," Alduin replied, rolling his eyes.

"Will he be announcing a perpetuum mobile next?" Alexandra asked archly.

"Probably," Alduin retorted.

Alexandra put her book down on her lap. "Does he include the equations? What do they say? You know I would never find the problem if there was one, but..."

"Well, they aren't my forte either," Alduin admitted, "but they seem sound to me, only they do not appear to mean what he thinks they mean! I will have to call on Abdullah to discuss it with him and give him and opportunity to laugh at my meagre Arithmancy skills. I mean, Transfiro would hardly get published if it was entirely nonsensical, yet it seems so out of the bounds of not only possibility, but also probability..."

At this point, Nitty appeared in the parlour with tea, and they were all obliged to put their books down and enjoy the trifle instead. Alduin turned to Harry. "Miss Burke and I," he said, "have an announcement to make."

Harry swallowed and looked up at him, seemingly a little anxious. "Yes?"

"Last night, I asked her to be my wife, and she has graciously accepted me. Travers Manor is to gain a mistress."

"Oh!" Harry seemed taken aback. "Congratulations! When are you getting married?"

"We think the beginning of summer would be best," Alexandra replied. "It gives us enough time to prepare, the weather should be decent and you will not be at Hogwarts yet."

Harry was surprised. "It takes so much time to plan a wedding?"

Alexandra laughed. "Well, some people get married on the spur of the moment, but it certainly takes time to plan the sort of wedding we are going to have!"

Alduin explained. "Noble and Most Ancient House weddings are events with a capital E, Harry. Effectively, all living members of the other Houses are invited, plus any friends one has that are outside that sphere."

"Wow! That's going to be a lot of people. Where is it going to be? I mean, are there places big enough for this in Diagon Alley?"

Alexandra smiled again. "Noble House weddings do not take place in public venues. They happen in the bride's family house, or on the grounds, if they take place in the warmer months."

"But, I mean, it means preparing really a lot of food, doesn't it? I have never been to a wedding, but I thought..." Harry trailed off.

"Fortunately, house-elves are really very good at making food in big quantities without it tasting any worse for it," Alduin reassured him.

Harry mused about it. A huge wedding in Miss Burke's family house, and from what she said, it seemed like he would be invited. It would be interesting to see, even though he was a little wary of her family, which he did not know.

Miss Burke bid them goodbye a short while later, and Alduin looked intently at Harry's frowning face, clearly deep in thought, before he asked: "What is it?"

Harry looked up, surprised. He was silent for a moment, then he said: "Why did you give me so many gifts?"

"There was nothing unusual about the number, I assure you. It was about as much as I used to get when I was a child."

"You gave me more than you gave Miss Burke!" Harry exclaimed.

"Certainly," Alduin replied. "Miss Burke is an adult with her own allowance, and can buy most things she wants to. You, on the other hand, cannot. It makes sense for you to get more gifts."

Harry frowned again, but did not say anything. "Harry, what is it?" Alduin asked, a little impatient.

Harry clearly did not want to say, but seeing that he would not let it be, in the end, he asked: "What is going to happen after you marry Miss Burke?"

"What do you think? She will move in here and become the mistress of this house, and in time, hopefully, we will have children."

Harry nodded, but his frown did not disappear. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering."

"Harry, there is something clearly bothering you, so why don't you tell me what it is?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I just wanted to know what will happen to me afterwards," he muttered.

"Why should anything happen to you?"

"Well, once Miss Burke moves in and you have your own children, you are hardly going to want me to be around..." Harry pointed out.

Alduin stared. "And how do you figure that one out?" He asked at length.

"It's obvious."

Alduin got up from the sofa to take Harry by the shoulders. "Harry, as long as I am alive, and unless you wilfully attack a member of my house, you will always have a home here. Always, even after you are an adult and take Potter Manor back. I will not be casting you out, whatever happens, unless it is something of your own doing."

Harry looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry," he said. "I just thought..."

"You spent too much time with the Dursleys," Alduin said decisively, "and so you assume you are a burden to everyone, but that is simply not true. You are my responsibility, and I will not throw you out after I tire of you or something of the sort."

There was a silence, and Alduin returned to his sofa to give Harry some space. After several minutes, the boy asked: "There is a Potter Manor?"

"Was. It was mostly destroyed in the Death Eater attack that killed most of your parental relations, but you still own the grounds, and once you come of age, you will be able to build the house again, exactly according to your wishes." Seeing his expression, Alduin smiled. "I know it sounds like a lot of responsibility, but you do not have to worry about it now, I assure you. As I have said, you will always have a home here."

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On Boxing Day, Harry woke up early again, and lay in bed musing about the talk he had with his cousin the day before. He was not sure he fully believed he would not become unwanted after the wedding, but he supposed that Hogwarts improved his chances – he would only be here for two months in the summer, and Miss Burke could probably tolerate him for that long – she seemed to quite like him, even.

When Sibby appeared with his tea, he promptly jumped up – today, he would get to try out his new broom!

Neville visited him again during the holidays, and he visited Neville. They enjoyed showing each other their new presents, and Neville particularly liked Harry's Quidditch displayers, while Harry admired some of the stranger plants his cousin got for Christmas.

A few days before the New Year's Eve, cousin Alduin approached him. "Miss Burke and I," he said, "have been invited to a New Year's Party. It is not, however, an event where they encourage participation of children. I do not like the idea of leaving you here alone for such an important night, but it is a major social occasion and so I came to ask you, against my better judgement, if you would mind it very much if we went."

Harry stared. Was his cousin actually asking him leave? "Of course you should go!" He said. "I would not want you to stay home on my account. I can read and watch my displayers and paint a little and all that! I wouldn't want you to miss the party."

"Thank you for being so understanding, Harry. I really hope you do not see this as me abandoning you. We will have a celebratory tea before I leave, to make the day at least somewhat special."

Alduin also bought him some new displayers to help him pass the time. Harry was extremely confused by this. What his cousin did not understand was that to Harry, it was a sign of trust, a direct contrast to what the Dursleys did – trusting him enough to leave him alone in the house for the night! He had the elves there, true, but while they would help him if he needed them, they obeyed Harry and would hardly stop him if he decided to do some mischief – indeed, they would have been just as likely to join in if he told them to! So Harry was really feeling very adult and grown up as he bid his cousin good night and went to his room to watch that one fascinating duel from the competition.


	9. The Invitations

AN: Oh look, I've actually kept my promise for once! Let's see if I can keep it up.

This chapter could also be called "meals".

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They new year started, and with it, Harry's classes resumed. There were, however, distractions. "Mrs. Longbottom and Neville will be coming for dinner on Friday," Alduin told him during lunch on Wednesday.

Harry looked up from his food. "Oh? Why for dinner this time, instead of the usual tea?"

Alduin frowned. How to explain? "You see, Harry, asking someone to dine with you is really the most proper way of honouring someone. But at the same time, you need a lady of the house for a proper dinner party. I still don't have that, of course, but given that Miss Burke and I are now engaged, it is sort of permissible for me to give small dinners, just for close family and friends, you understand, where she would act as the mistress. Had I been married, my wife would have asked the Longbottoms for dinner immediately after the first two visits were exchanged. As it was, we had to postpone it a little."

"It seems very complicated," Harry commented.

Alduin shrugged. "I suppose it is, when you are new to it, but trust me, you will understand in time, and these rules will come naturally to you. At any rate, the Longbottoms take precedence, given their close relationship to you, but after them, we will be able to ask more people to come. So get ready for being rather busy during the evenings!"

"Who are you going to ask?" Harry was curious.

"Miss Burke's parents, certainly. Then I will ask my closest friend, Abdullah Shafiq, with his family. He went to Hogwarts with me, and I am going to ask him to be my best man, as I had been his, shortly before being put in a coma." Alduin paused as he added more potatoes to his plate. "After that, it is less clear, but probably I will then begin to ask what remains of my relations, especially those that I have always got on tolerably well with. Mr. Shacklebolt and his family, and Mercurius Ollivander and his. Perhaps even the Crouches."

"How exactly are those people related to you?" The younger wizard wondered.

"Second cousins, like you and Neville. Nathan's – Mr. Shacklebolt's – paternal grandmother was my paternal grandfather's sister, and so was Mercurius'. Mr. Crouch is my first cousin once removed, like you, only in the other direction, of course. My paternal grandmother was his aunt. I have more second cousins, but, well. It's the Black side of the family, meaning Sirius, who is in Azkaban, Regulus, who is dead, Bellatrix, who is in Azkaban...the only two remaining from that branch are Andromeda and Narcissa. Andromeda does not really keep dinners, but perhaps I could ask her for tea at some point. I am not certain she would come, though, she cut herself off from everyone after her parents disinherited her. But I will likely ask Narcissa and her family...in time." After it becomes politically plausible to do so, Alduin thought to himself.

"Why was Andromeda disinherited?" Harry immediately fastened on the juiciest gossip.

Alduin sighed. "My cousin married a Muggle-Born wizard. Her parents were not very understanding. It has to be said that she had been very headstrong about it, too, not willing to wait and see if her boyfriend would perhaps grow on her parents in time, at least enough not to cut her off completely. Oh well. She has made her bed, and as far as I know, does not complain about lying in it." He paused. "The only other remaining relations in this degree are the McMillians, and I prefer to see those as little as possible."

"Why?"

Alduin grimaced. "They are a Hufflepuff family. I am from a Ravenclaw one. That has never been a good combination."

"How come you are related in the first place, then?" Harry had learned enough about the wizarding world to know that marriages usually ran within houses, even though the Potter-Travers marriage to which he owed being related to Alduin was one of those exceptions.

"It's through your house," his cousin explained. "Your great-grandfather's sister, my great aunt, married a McMillan. Ernie, the youngest son of the family, is your third cousin." Then, Alduin groaned. "Merlin help me," he said, "but if I remember correctly, he is about your age. That probably means I should arrange a visit there, too. It really does not seem fair – Augusta Longbottom, the McMillians...I swear I would rather see the Weasleys."

"Who are they?" Harry did not remember hearing the name before.

Alduin took a fortifying sip from his goblet. "A family that is notorious for their lack of manners. I take it back, I would not actually prefer them – at least there is only one Mrs. Longbottom, and not that many McMillians. The Weasleys have so many children they could start their own Quidditch team. But, thinking about it, I will not escape them either – they are one of the cornerstone Gryffindor families, and as such, you should meet them. Especially as it is almost certain at least one of their many children is roughly your age, too." He looked at Harry askance. "I hope you will forgive me," he said, "if I will not arrange the visits of people who were connected to your parents as often as I will of my own friends. I do possess only one set of nerves."

Harry laughed. "You don't have to worry about it," he said, "if you don't want to, you don't have to introduce me to any of them."

Alduin shook his head. "This is where you are wrong, Harry. After you have been in the wizarding world a little longer, you will understand."

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The Longbottom dinner went as well as might have been hoped for, and once that was over, thankfully, the time for pleasanter social obligations arrived. The Shafiqs were asked to come with the youngest generation, and so Harry was provided with the novel experience of being the senior child and an object of admiration for the younger ones, who were very excited at the prospect of him going to Hogwarts the following year.

"I wish I could go already, too," Abdulaziz complained, "but I still have two more years to wait. Two years! It's not fair."

"You can hardly go to Hogwarts before you can even find it on a map," his father pointed out.

"He gets that from me," Mrs. Shafiq said in a stage whisper. "Geography was never quite my favourite topic, and my parents never bothered much with it. So I freely admit my side of the family is to blame."

"Hey, I resent that!" Miss Burke commented.

Harry was confused. "Why?"

Mrs. Shafiq laughed. "Alexandra and I are cousins through her mother," she explained, and Alduin made a mental note to look over family trees with Harry before any more social visits would occur – every pureblood knew these things as a matter of course. "But I believe she got all her interests from her father. History, I ask you!"

"What is your hobby?" Harry asked, curious.

"Arithmancy," she explained. "That was how we got together with Abdullah – two Arithmancy enthusiasts."

"Oh, that reminds me I have a question for you," Alduin remembered. "I came across it in the Transfiro book..."

"Not the time-travel business?"

Alduin stared. "You have read it?"

"No," Mr. Shafiq replied, "but Philip has and had a number of questions about it, the same ones you are going to ask, I presume. I keep telling you you should be seeing him more often, you two have a lot in common."

"Thanks, but my social diary is a little full now, what with having to fraternize with the Gryffindors," Alduin said, grimacing a little, and Harry felt guilty for indirectly making his cousin suffer through uncomfortable company. He did not envy him the alone-time with Neville's grandmother at all.

"Yes, I have heard you were seeing a lot of the Longbottoms recently," Mr. Shafiq sniggered a little.

"From whom?" Alduin seemed surprised. "I was not aware they kept in touch with anyone, actually."

"As a matter of fact, it was at Philip's, too – the Crabbes were there, and well, you know Wilhelm's father was old Longbottom's cousin, so the old generation takes the trouble of seeing them from time to time, though I imagine they take about as much pleasure in it as you do," Mr. Shafiq said drily.

"It hasn't been as bad as I had feared it would," Alduin replied. "Harry has done wonders with young Neville, drawn him out. Mrs. Longbottom, of course, is as charming as ever. But still, I fear worse is yet to come."

Abdullah frowned. "Surely there are the Shacklebolts and the Greengrasses…?"

"The Shacklebolts, yes, without a doubt. I will ask them soon enough. But the Greengrasses hardly count nowadays, as you know, and so..."

Abdullah shuddered. "Better you than me," he said.

Harry had no idea what they were talking about, and was astonished to see that the Shafiq children did not appear to have that problem. Surely it was impossible that they could remember all these names, when they were so young?

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"So, did you like our guests?" Alduin asked the next day over breakfast.

Harry chewed his bacon before replyin: "Yeah, Abdulaziz's fun to be around. Gamila is still a baby, really, but it was interesting seeing wizarding children."

"She would not thank you for that!" Alduin laughed. "I think she sees herself as quite a grown-up ever since her classes started."

Harry laughed as well, and then said: "All that talk about families was pretty confusing for me..."

"Yes, I noticed. I think we are going to look over the family trees instead of one class today, it's important you know these things."

He followed action to words. Harry was bewildered. "So many people," he said, "and they all seem to be connected to each other in different ways..."

"They are, especially when you look at the families affiliated with one Hogwarts house," Alduin reiterated something Harry already knew.

"Are all of them equally important? The families, I mean?" Harry was trying to get some sense of that mess of lines.

His cousin smiled a little at this, without humour. "Officially, yes – we all have an equal say in the Wizengamot. Unofficially...well. Some have more influence, some have less."

"Which one is the most important?" Harry wanted to know immediately.

"Well, the Burkes and us are prominent in the Ravenclaw circles, the Malfoys and the Blacks in the Slytherin ones – well, the Blacks used to be, in the past. Now there is none of them left. The Smiths and the Fawleys are the champions of Hufflepuff, and it would be your house, together with the Prewetts, who is important in Gryffindor."

Harry laughed. "I asked for one family, and you named eight!"

Alduin shook his head. "It can't be narrowed down to only one. The Malfoys are certainly trying to pretend that role is theirs, but at the very least, the Smiths are contesting that – and the Burkes, too, recently."

"Why only recently?" The younger wizard probed further.

Alduin paused for a moment, seeming to think about how best to explain, before he said: "They are actually one of the younger families among the Noble and Most Ancient houses, but they have been very careful in the war, never getting too friendly with either side, and it stood them in good stead, politically – they all survived, an almost unique feat, and are in a good position now. People like them, and they are very well connected – they made very good marriages."

Harry giggled. "Like Miss Burke?" He asked.

Alduin smiled calmly. "Yes," he said, "in fact, I am very eligible – as is she. She had waited longer than is customary, you know, to get engaged. She knew she could pick and choose. At the same time, the moment I reappeared, she knew this was as good as it was going to get – as I did in her case."

Harry frowned. "It doesn't sound exactly like the reasons I thought people should get married for."

Alduin laughed at him. "You watched too much Muggle telly," he said. "You're imagining passionate declarations of love. That might be well and good for an affair, but for marriage, you need something that will last. Alexandra and I come from the same circles, have similar temperaments, share the same hobbies and understand each other. That is a better basis for marriage than most have."

Harry still seemed dissatisfied. "But what if you fall in love?" He asked.

"With someone else, you mean?" Alduin clarified. "But marrying purely for love does not protect you from that. Rather the contrary – if you marry someone only because of what you feel for them, then the moment you start to feel the same thing for someone else, you lose any reason you had to stay with the first person."

Harry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the topic, but persisted, unwilling to let himself be persuaded: "But, I mean, if you love the person you married, you will not fall in love with someone else, will you?"

Alduin smiled. "It's more complicated than that," he said, "but I do not think I can explain this without you having at least some kind of experience with girls. We will continue this conversation in a couple of years."

Harry, flushing a little, said: "All right. Can you at least explain who you were such a good catch? I mean, I already know why Miss Burke was..."

"Because I am the head of a family already. Usually, when a woman marries, she has to live in a house with many generations of her in-laws before she becomes the mistress, when she is quite old. With me, Miss Burke gets to be the lady of the house immediately. That is very valuable, and an advantage your wife will have, too, in time, though in both of our cases it was dearly paid for. But anyway, to continue about the families," Alduin pointed to certain places in the drawing of the family tree that lay at the table before them, "the Smiths are not liked at all, though they are well respected because they are descended from Helga Hufflepuff. The Malfoys have a lot of political influence, but they have one family tradition that hampers them."

"What is it?"

"For several generations now, they always have only one son, and no daughters. It is their way of showing superiority, you see, of saying that they do not have to provide daughters for people to marry and other families are still going to offer them theirs. Only," Alduin shrugged, "well, it's incredibly stupid, because that means they lack the family connections that would have provided them with, and they have to work very hard to supplements it. Another thing is that they got a little entangled with Riddle and that lost them some credibility."

"They supported Voldemort?" Harry asked incredulously.

Alduin frowned at Harry's shock. "I already told you many people did, including my own uncle. Mr. Malfoy managed to get out of prison saying that he was magically controlled and made to obey against his will. It is almost certainly not true in the sense he claims, but there are other ways of controlling people. He has a wife he loves, and that wife's sister is one of the most fanatical supporters of Riddle. Lucius likely found himself between a rock and a hard place."

"What do you mean?" Harry did not understand.

"Quite plainly that he feared for his wife's life, if he did not do what Riddle wanted." The war was a brutal time for everyone.

Harry was frowning. "He supported the guy who killed my parents, and who attacked you! How can you be so okay with it?"

"It is very easy to judge someone when you are not in their situation, Harry. If someone threatened you or Miss Burke, I do not know what I would do." That was very close to being a lie – Alduin had a very good idea what he would do, but ti was not the sort of thing he could share with Harry.

"But it was still wrong!"The boy insisted.

"It was certainly not right, I grant you that. But I repeat, it is very easy to judge." Alduin sighed. "At any rate, whatever your opinion, I would ask you not to discuss this in public, and certainly not in front of the Malfoys, once you meet them. It would be a very unpleasant faux-pas."

"I don't think I want to meet them, if they supported Riddle!"

Alduin sighed again. He had feared a reaction like this, but he had had to tell Harry, or the Longbottoms would have, sooner or later, and they would have couched it in far worse terms. He knew perfectly well he was painting Lucius much whiter than the man really was, but he saw no other way to convince Harry to act at least passably civilly to him. Hopefully in time, he would learn not to see everything as so black and white, but for now he was too young and Alduin had to work with what he had.

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AN: I fully admit that I made up that "we're engage so we can throw small dinner parties" rule. But I was thinking, well, the wizards are old-fashioned compared to us, but they have had *some* development in the last hundred years, so that's my idea of how the etiquette would evolve.


	10. Cornelius Fudge

AN: This chapter deals with a lot of the same topics as the last one...it's going to be a theme for a while, I'm afraid, until Harry can tome to terms with this at least a little.

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The next invitation was issued to the Shacklebolts. They came without children, since both of them were at Hogwarts already, but at Alduin's request, they brought Kingsley with them. He had thought Harry might like to meet a real Auror, and he had been right.

"Do you have a lot of work?" His young charge was asking curiously as soon as he learned what the younger Shacklebolt brother did for a living.

"Not as much as we used to," the man said easily, "which is a very good thing."

"Oh, have you been an Auror during the war already?" Harry's curiosity seemed to grow.

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, I joined directly after Hogwarts, and at that time, the war was just beginning. I was thrown in at the deep end, but it did have some upsides – I managed to gain experiences that way which none of of the new recruits have...But it's not that we don't have anything to do, there are always people attempting to cause mischief."

"Are many of them ex-Death Eaters?" Harry continued his questioning. Alduin was very glad for this opportunity his ward had to talk to an Auror and a Gryffindor who had reasonable opinions.

Kingsley smiled at his question. "Officially, there are no ex-Death Eaters outside of Azkaban, or almost none. Unofficially, well, I have to say that they rarely cause any trouble, at least of the open kind. They know they have to tread very carefully." He shrugged. "Periodically, there is a backslash against them, their houses are raided and every time, some dark objects are found, but well..."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean? You sound like you think it doesn't matter."

The Auror shrugged. "Because I don't think it does. Many of those things are family heirlooms, coming back from times when the border between what is and isn't dark was much less firmly established. Most old families have such things in their vaults. As long as they aren't using it, I don't see why we should be wasting energy by attempting to ferret it out. Mind you, I am far form thinking those people are free of any evil intent – but we should be trying to find out what those intents might be, not go chasing wild geese."

His older brother added: "Very likely, it's those ex-Death Eaters who have some nefarious plans that set the spark for those chases when they want to distract the Ministry. It falls for it every time, more's the pity."

"Well, with Fudge being the Minister, what can you expect?" Alduin asked rhetorically.

"What's wrong with Mr. Fudge?" Harry enquired curiously. All the adults a the table chuckled.

"He is...not the most capable of men," Alexandra explained.

"Understatement of the century," Susan Shacklebolt muttered.

"Then how come he is the Minister? I mean, I thought normally..." Here Harry paused. Alduin assumed he had been about to make a comparison with the Muggle world, but remembered he wasn't supposed to make those.

"Well, Harry, it's like this," he took the word. "When you have several equally strong fractions, each with a strong candidate, then making a compromise often involves putting in an insignificant person that doesn't offend anyone."

"But that's stupid!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean, if he does a bad job, everybody pays for it, don't they?"

Alduin smiled at this. "Yes, but less so than if a person directly opposed to their interest was in the function, perhaps. Or so many people believe."

"Who was it supposed to be, then, the strong candidates, I mean?"

Here, Nathan rejoined the conversation. "Bartemius Crouch was the most likely candidate, but that fell through when his own son was discovered to be a Death Eater." He smirked. "There are still impassioned discussions going on about who was behind that discovery."

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers. "I don't understand. You mean someone forced him to join?"

"Not necessarily, even though that is possible too, of course," Nathan said evasively.

"Then what?"

"Come, Harry," Alduin said, "you already know that many people who were Death Eaters escaped prison. He was well on the way to becoming one of them, when he was caught. Someone convinced him to join that last foolhardy effort to bring Riddle back and it is extremely likely that that someone did it precisely to discredit Bartemius Crouch." He exchanged a look with Nathan. They were dissembling and they both knew it – everybody in both the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor camp were certain enough about who was behind that particular clever bit of politics. The Smiths were the ones most opposed to Crouch getting the position, and Mrs. Duncan Smith's great-nephew married Gerda Crabbe, sister to one Death Eater and sister-in-law to another. She was young Crouch's cousin by marriage, and so either Wilhelm Crabbe or Leo Goyle were likely to have been his sponsors among the Death Eaters, and those who introduced him into Dark Lord's service. It was not in any ex-Death Eater's interest to have Barty Crouch as a prime minister either, and so it would have been a piece of cake for Gerda Crabbe or her relations to convince one of them to persuade Barty Junior to take part in that idiotic effort. But like many other things, Alduin knew Harry was not prepared to hear this.

Nathan spoke again, saying: "Apart from Bartemius Crouch, well...I am sorry – and embarrassed! - to say that the Gryffindor camp was completely incapable of agreeing on anyone else but Dumbledore, even though it was perfectly obvious that he was going to refuse. The Smiths were trying to push forward one of them, Aidan, but that was doomed to fail too, since no one tends to like them. The Slytherins were attempting to convince Paolo Proudfoot to take on the job for them, since the Proudfoots were the only one of the Slytherin Noble and Most Ancient families that never got entangled with the Dark Lord, but he very sensibly told them to go to the devil."

Kingsley chuckled. At the others' questioning look, he explained: "One of Paolo's sons is an Auror and I know him quite well. We've discussed this a couple of times, and he told me how absolutely enraged his father had been at that time. Because obviously the Slytherin families expected he would defend their interest as a Minister, and then, it mostly meant keeping their various family members out of Azkaban. Now Paolo is no fanatic and he has no particular desire to lock up a father of two small children, for example, but going out of his way to get guilty people out of their punishment is a different thing entirely. I believe he was quite vocal and explicit in his refusal."

"So you see, Harry," Nathan finished his explanation, "it turned into a match between Bartemius Crouch and Aidan Smith, with many people not wanting to have either on the job, and so the search for a perfectly inoffensive candidate started...in the end, the Junior Secretary to the previous Minister was picked, and that was how we were saddled with Cornelius."

"My husband gave you a very unbiased account," Susan added. "Speaking with most people, they would tell you that the fraction they hate the most put Fudge in place. Most Gryffindors swear it's the fault of the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs are cursing the Ravenclaws, and so on."

"As if that wasn't absurd," Alexandra noted. "No self-respecting Ravenclaw would ever promote Fudge of all people as a minister."

"And you could say the same for the Slytherins," Alduin added. "As I was trying to explain to Augusta Longbottom recently, Lucius has too much sense of style to support something like that." That was not to say, of course, that he would not take the opportunity such a weak minister presented.

"Based on this logic, I think we should blame the Hufflepuffs," Susan commented. "They are by far the most likely not to mind, and it is Fudge's old house, after all."

"You can expect no objection in this of all Houses," Alduin laughed in response.

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Next morning, Harry was frowning through breakfast.

"What is it?" Alduin asked.

"Well...there's something bothering me, but I'm not sure if I should..."

Alduin sighed exasperatedly. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can ask me anything?"

Harry straightened his shoulders. "All right then," he said. "I don't understand how you can be so okay with all those ex-Death Eaters roaming free. If I understand it right, you even see many of them at parties! I know we've already talked about this a little, but I mean, they hurt you and put you in a coma for nine years! Maybe it's not so bad as having your parents killed, but still-"

"Harry," Alduin interrupted him. "Death Eaters killed my parents, too. And my grandparents."

Harry stared. "They I don't understand. How can you not care?"

Alduin rubbed his eyes, frustrated. "It's not that I don't care, it's that the Death Eaters are not, for me, just bogeymen from a story. They are real people, and I know most of them personally. Some of them are truly more monsters than humans, but most are just people who made some bad decisions and did not have the courage to risk their lives to make up for it." Seeing that he was still not getting through to Harry, he said: "Look, I told you I have an uncle in Azkaban. We knew perfectly well he was a Death Eater during the war. He joined right at the beginning, before it was clear what it was really going to be like. But once he did, there was no way out."

"But why did he join at all?" How could anyone join an organization like that and not be a bad person?

Alduin took a drink and prepared for another lengthy explanation. "My grandparents were conservative people who, while no Muggle haters, nevertheless thought that our traditions were disappearing at an alarming rate and that something should be done about it, and that the old pureblood families were the best possible guarantee of that. Their sons differed greatly in their opinions about this. My father, while esteeming wizarding traditions, argued that some degree of change was natural and that, at any rate, preventing Muggle-Borns and half-bloods from participating fully in our society would be a much greater evil than any disappearing traditions. We all have to do what we can to preserve them personally in our lives, he said, but we should not try and limit what everyone else does. My uncle, on the other hand, took a more hard-line view, saying that we must demand that the newcomers into our world adapt, or they should not be allowed to be part of it. He did not wish for the Muggle-Born to be educated with the children of purebloods, and he only wanted half-bloods at Hogwarts on the condition that they would prove they adhered to the wizarding traditions, not the Muggle ones."

Harry mused about this. He supposed it made sense, in a way, if Alduin's uncle really thought the wizarding traditions were in danger, from the Muggle ones, but where would the Muggle-Borns be educated then? Who would teach them about wizarding culture? Meanwhile, his cousin continued: "My uncle met some people at school who were of the same opinion, and some of them put him in touch with Riddle. Death Eaters were presented to him as precisely the sort of organization that would attempt to achieve what he hoped for. The name was only invented later, you have to understand – or at least it was only made known to him later – so there was no clear indication of what was really going on, except perhaps for Riddle's pretentious pseudonym, but the man had charisma enough to carry it off, or so I am told. So my uncle joined, and then the demands on him grew and he understood there was no getting out, so he at least tried to protect his family and friends as much as he could. That was why my parents lasted so long – they started their anti-Riddle activities quite soon, based on the information they had from my uncle, but he shielded them for a long time. And then, when he couldn't do so any longer, he warned them that if they did not stop, Riddle would send someone after them. Well, they made their choice, and my uncle's warning turned out to be true...only what he did not expect was that they would come for my parents while they were attending a party with my grandparents, and as my grandparents tried to protect them, that they would be killed, too. That had been a true shock for my uncle, and perhaps had there been someone to turn to, he would have gone against Riddle at that point...but he was not going to go to Dumbledore, whom he disliked and strongly disagreed with. And so he stayed loyal, at least formally so, and is in Azkaban for his trouble. My great-grandfather died of shock and grief after hearing the news, and my great-grandmother only lasted until the attack on me, as far as I know. So you see...while my uncle is not a particularly good person, and he did many terrible things, he is not a monster, and he never was to me. He was just the uncle I regularly met at family parties."

Harry didn't like this, but it was hard to argue with what Alduin said, and presumably, he knew his own uncle. "Well he might have been," he conceded reluctantly, "but what about the others? The ones who attacked your parents, for example?"

Alduin sighed. "But this is what you have to understand...a good half of Death Eater stories was like this. My own uncle took part in many attacks like that against my parents, because he was not brave enough to say no, not brave enough to be tortured and die. Those who killed my parents were only human, like him."

"Do you know who did it?"

Alduin did. There were several low level Death Eaters present, but Lucius Malfoy was the one in command. He never let it on to the man that he knew he was behind the death of his parents. It would serve no purpose at this moment. He had no illusions about Lucius being quite innocent in the matter and his hand being forced – that was true as far as his parents' death was concerned, but attacking at such a moment that led to the deaths of his grandparents was Lucius' personal choice, and it was no doubt motivated by wanting to gain more influence by eliminating members of one of the most prominent families. Yes, he would have had enough cause for a vendetta against House Malfoy, but it would be singularly unproductive, at least at this point.

The problem was, what to tell Harry? Truth was out of the question, but he did not like lying, in case it came out later. He wanted the boy to trust him enough to ask questions, after all. "I do," he said at length, "but I have decided not to seek revenge, and so I will not tell you."

"I just...is something wrong with me?" Harry asked. "I cannot think of my parents' death without getting really angry, and I can't even imagine knowing who did it and just letting it go if the person wasn't punished."

How very like James, Alduin mused – and like Lily, too, he supposed. "That's natural enough, Harry," he said aloud. "The murder of your parents forced you to grow up without them, with an aunt and uncle who mistreated you. Of course you would be extremely angry that it happened. I, on the other hand, was a grown man when the attack took place, and while I regret that they died before their time, knowing that they knew in advance there was a very good chance of that and choose to take the risk makes me much less angry about it. It's more complicated with my grandparents, but well, they weren't that young any more, and...there are other deaths from the war that pain me much more. That of your parents among them."

Harry exhaled. "You're probably right," he said. "Still, I'm not sure if I wish I could be as forgiving as you, or if I think it's wrong."

"You don't have to decide, at least not at the moment. It happens to me quite often, that I at the same time admire some character trait someone has and really do not wish I had it myself. It sounds contradictory, I know, but people are like that."

Musing about this, Harry went upstairs to get his books.


	11. The Potions Master

AN: Look who joins the cast...I don't own him, either, as much as I might like to.

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Harry lay in his bed, awake, staring at the canopy.

He didn't know what to think.

Riddle, who murdered his parents, was evil and needed to be destroyed if he ever came back. Not even his cousin argued with that.

Sirius Black, who betrayed his parents, was evil as well, and deserved to rot in prison. There seemed to be equally little discussion going on about that part.

But Black had been a follower of Riddle, and there were all these other followers of Riddle apparently roaming free, and not only was not Alduin too bothered by it, not even those Gryffindor people he had met yesterday were.

So what was the difference?

Was it that Black betrayed his friends? That was fair enough, Harry decided. Even if they were both evil, he would still be much more amenable to letting Alduin's uncle out of prison, a man who did what he could to protect his family and friends, apparently, than Black, who betrayed them.

So that meant that all followers of Riddle were not equally bad after all.

But what if there had been some unknown circumstances in Black's case as well? What if Riddle threatened to kill his wife and children if he did not betray Harry's parents?

The boy frowned. Surely if there had been such a thing, Alduin would have told him. But no, he had said Black was a sociopath instead.

But, a voice in his head insisted, if he had been threatened, would you have thought better of him?

To his dismay, he had to admit that yes, it would change the situation a lot.

Harry turned in bed, and buried his face in the pillow, irritated. Why were things so complicated?

He wished he knew what his parents would have thought about this. His father, Alduin had said, never asked too many questions, so would he have bothered with this at all? And what about his mother?

Harry frowned again, realizing he had no idea about his mother at all. He would have to try and remedy that.

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The next day, Harry said during lunch: "I really feel like I know a lot about my dad already, what he was like and so on, but I hardly know anything about my mum. I know you weren't really friends with her or anything, but wasn't one of those people we could ask for dinner? I would really like to hear some stories..."

And that was how Alduin found himself writing to one Severus Snape.

He had not seen him since the days when James and Sirius tormented him, and he suspected that the man would not take kindly to a latter from someone who was closely related both to his bullies and to the family that disowned his mother. However, he had to try, for Harry's sake. After considerable effort, he composed a missive that looked like this:

 _Dear Professor Snape,_

 _I apologize for imposing on you in such a manner, when we have not spoken since our schooldays, and even then, we hardly ever did._

 _As you may know from Headmaster Dumbledore, I have recently become the guardian of Harry Potter. Since then, I have been trying to educate him in the ways of our world and to correct the damage that his Muggle relatives have left on him with their neglect and mistreatment._

 _The boy grew up in an emotionally cold house (towards him, that is) with only the memory of his parents to cheer him up, even though his relations did their best to spoil even that. Under the circumstances, it is I believe understandable that he wishes to know as much about his parents as possible. I have told him what I can about James (and while I try to soften the image – the boy is only eleven, after all – I hope you know that I do not offer only glowing praise of my cousin, since you might remember that I disagreed with him and disapproved of him frequently), but there is little I can say about Lily, whom I hardly knew. To this purpose, I am writing to you._

 _If you would consent to as much as write your recollections of your childhood friend, I would be much obliged to you, for my young charge's sake. Harry has some pictures, but they cannot tell him what his mother was truly like._

 _Your sincerely,_

 _Alduin Travers_

The reply he received was short and to the point: _I am willing to discuss it. Be in Three Broomsticks at 9 PM tomorrow, without the boy. Snape_

Alduin tried to swallow his irritation at the tone, telling himself he really should be grateful that the man was even willing to see him, given everything. And so, the next day, he left immediately after dinner to meet the famously strict – to all but Slytherins, if one was to believe the rumours – professor.

Years did not improve Severus Snape's visage, and given the look on his face, it seems they have not improved his attitude either.

"I'm interested," he drawled once Alduin sat down, "to hear why I should indulge the curiosities of the beloved celebrity of the wizarding world. My time is precious, after all."

Alduin resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Instead, he just looked at Snape. "I'm not asking you to indulge the curiosities of a celebrity, I am asking you to spare some time for a ten-year old boy, son of your childhood best fried, to tell him about his dead mother."

"Do you honestly believe that a sob story is going to work on me?"

"I am not telling it to make you cry, but it contains legitimate reasons for compassion, I believe."

"And you expect compassion from a Death Eater?"

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "I might have been in a coma at the time, but I read the old newspapers. I know that you have been cleared, and why."

"Not everyone would be so easily convinced that my loyalties are where I say they are."

Alduin laughed. "You mean fanatical Gryffindors who never grew out of seeing the world as black and white and regard Dumbledore as a fairy-tale grandfather. I am not actually stupid, Professor Snape. I know Dumbledore is everything but stupid, and he would never believe you unless he was absolutely certain. Mere platitudes would never convince him. I suppose one could say that you were too good an Occlumens for him, but, well, you were only about twenty at the time, weren't you? It seems most unlikely."

"You have to make up your mind – either I was too good an occlumens for Dumbledore, or for the Dark Lord. Which is more likely?"

"The Dark Lord, given that he, contrary to Dumbledore, did not know he should be looking for treason."

Snape exhaled. "Well, it is refreshing not to be talking to an idiot," he conceded, "but I still don't see why should I indulge golden Potter."

"And I don't see why not," Alduin returned. "Of course, if it's matter of your time being precious, as you say..." He paused significantly and waited for Snape to bristle.

The man, however, shot him a look. "Whatever you think about my loyalties," he said, "in any case I was a spy. Do not expect me to fall for this."

Alduin shrugged. "I wasn't trying too hard," he admitted. "And I would be completely willing to offer you money, if I thought that was the incentive you needed."

Snape was silent for a moment, then he asked: "Have you contacted Lupin?"

"No. Why? I can tell Harry enough about his father to satisfy him, and I can weave in some degree of criticism – though not too much, he glorifies both of his parents exceedingly – and keep silent about the things I believe he should not hear about, lest they inspire him. The last thing he needs is tales that praise the things he and Sirius did, and I don't just mean to you. It is his mother he knows nothing about."

Snape nodded, and seemed to consider. "I am willing to try," he said at length, "but do not expect me to treat him with excessive kindness."

"I will warn him," Alduin replied, "but I would like to ask you not to share any of the particular stories of James'...behaviour. I fully intend to tell him when he is older, but I do not think he could handle it now. I am doing my best to teach him that world is not all black and white, but it is an uphill battle, and it will take time."

"Very well. As long as he does not ask me about his father."

"Again, I will warn him."

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And so, on Saturday at breakfast, Alduin said: "Harry, a friend of your mother will be coming for tea this afternoon."

"Really? That's great! Who is he?"

"He is Professor Severus Snape, and he teaches at Hogwarts."

"Is he related to you, or to me?" Harry apparently learned his lesson about how the wizarding world worked.

"Not directly," Alduin replied, "but his mother was the sister of my father's cousin's husband."

"Er..."

"My father's aunt had a daughter, and that daughter married Professor Snape's uncle."

"I see."

"But at any rate, Professor Snape's mother married a Muggle and was disinherited by her family, so we never knew each other and he is not fond of the connection, so you would do best not to mention it. And similarly, Harry, and this is important...Professor Snape seriously disliked your father."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, he was a Slytherin and your father was a Gryffindor, that's often enough to begin with. Also, your father was a rich pureblood heir with all his rights, while Professor Snape's mother was disinherited. From the other side, well, Professor Snape was poor at the time, and not very good-looking, and rather socially awkward, too, so he was a prime object to make fun of, and your father could not always resist." Alduin mentally apologized to Snape for understating the situation so much, but well, what else could he do? "As far as I know, there was strong antipathy from the beginning, at both sides. It grew stronger when your father fell in love with your mother, because he thought she shouldn't be friends with such people and Professor Snape thought that your father was not worthy of his friend."

"And my mother didn't mind? That her boyfriend disliked her friend, and the other way round, I mean?"

"She did, and for a long time, she rejected your father, precisely because of the way he treated Professor Snape. But then they fell out, and some time after that, she started to date James."

"Why did they fall out, do you know?"

"I do," the entire school had known, at the time, "but it was intensely personal and if I should give you only one advice about Professor Snape, it would be never to ask him about it. The second one, of course, would be not to ask him about your father. Simply stick to your mother, when they were children."

Harry frowned, but agreed.

Now he sat in the afternoon parlour, covering a little before the glare Professor Snape was sending his way. "I just...I just wanted to ask about my mum, Professor," he said hesitatingly. "My cousin says you were friends with her."

"Yes." The was a short silence, then Snape started to talk. "You mother and I grew up in the same town, in adjacent neighbourhoods. As you know, she was Muggle-born. When her magic started to manifest, she had no idea what was going on."

Harry nodded, understanding perfectly what that was like.

"I saw her, and I realized what was happening, and I contacted her. We became friends quickly. She was curious about the magical world, naturally enough, and I was able to provide some answers. Her sister, however, never liked me."

"Don't worry about it, Professor, my aunt doesn't like anyone."

"I daresay. At any rate, we were friends for some years before going to Hogwarts, and we managed to keep our friendship strong for a time even there, despite her being sorted into Gryffindor and me into Slytherin."

"What was she like?"

"Your mother was very vivacious. She was generally kind, but could also be strong-headed and she was very fierce, and not to be trifled with when angry. She had quite a temper. She was a very good student, especially of Potions and Charms, and a prefect and the Head Girl, too, though I suppose you already know that."

Harry nodded. "Do you have some...I don't know, some stories about her?"

Snape sneered. "Not such amusing ones as I have no doubt your father's friends would have been able to produce," he replied. "Your mother was not quite so...adventurous. We spent most of our time together talking, or brewing potions. I can tell you that she managed to brew Veritaserum in her fourth year, but I do not expect it will tell you anything."

Alduin, who was present for the entire conversation, interrupted here to say: "It is a potion that is normally only taught in the sixth year, to the advanced students who manage to get into NEWT level potions class."

"That's cool," Harry said appreciatively. "And you said she was good at charms, too?"

"Yes. She was one of the first in our year to manage the Patronus charm – after, of course, Ginevra Ollivander," he said with small and slightly mocking bow towards Alduin.

Harry shot him a questioning glance, and his cousin explained: "Ginevra was the Ravenclaw prefect in their year, the year above me. She was the best student of her year. She married my second cousin, Jonathan Crouch."

"But if she was the best student of her year, how come my mum became the Head Girl, and not her?"

Alduin and Snape exchanged a look. "Well, that's Dumbledore for you," Alduin replied light-heartedly. "He always mixed education and politics."

"Yeah, that reminds me of something I've been wondering about for a while-" Harry said, but then he stopped.

"Yes?" Alduin asked, unsure of the wisdom of that. But there was hardly a polite way of shushing Harry once he started.

"Well, I mean, how come both of my parents were Head Boy and Head Girl? Isn't it a little strange, to have both from the same house?"

"Yes. Yes, it is, and there was a huge outcry against it at the time," Alduin replied, exchanging another glance with Snape, "but as I said, it was a political decision on Dumbledore's part."

"Was it? I mean, I would expect it would make people other than Gryffindors angry, and aren't political people supposed to avoid that?"

Snape gave him an appreciative glance. "I see, Mr. Potter," he said, "that there is hope for you yet."


	12. The Unforgivable Curses

AN: Neville's back! Did you miss him?

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„I've met my first Hogwarts teacher!" Harry announced to Neville cheerfully the next time the boy came over for an afternoon.

„Really? Which one?" Neville asked curiously, plopping down on a chair in Harry's room.

„The Potions teacher," Harry replied, sitting in the other one. "Professor Snape."

"Oh wow, Potions!" Neville straightened. "That's really closely related to Herbology, you know, so I'm curious about that. What is he like?"

Harry thought about it. "Well...kinda scary, to be honest."

Neville looked resigned. "Just my luck. How did you meet him anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "Turns out he used to be friends with my mum, so when I asked my cousin if he knew any of her old acquaintances, he invited Professor Snape for tea."

Neville seemed deep in thought.

"What is it?" His cousin asked.

"Well...do you think he will come to visit you again? I think I'd kind of like to meet him before school too. I mean, it's usually an advantage, and I'd like to do well in that subject..."

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure," he said. "Turns out that while he used to be friends with Mum, he really didn't like Dad, and given that Alduin is actually dad's cousin...I gathered he mostly came as a favour to me, to tell me about Mum. He didn't look all that happy about it either."

"Why didn't he like your dad?" Neville asked curiously.

Harry played with the sleeve of his robe as he answered: "I asked Alduin, and he said something about them being in Gryffindor and Slytherin, which seems like a really stupid reason -"

"I think you'd be surprised," Neville interrupted him. "From what Gran told me...and frankly sometimes I think someone being a Slytherin is enough of a reason for her to dislike them as well." He paused. "Not that I'm trying to imply your dad was like that!"

"Well, my cousin did name some additional reasons, but they sounded even more stupid – like that my dad was rich and Professor Snape was poor. I can understand why Snape would be jealous of my dad, but why would my dad dislike him in turn?" Harry certainly didn't fancy the idea of his dad being one of those people who looked down on those who were worse dressed. He had enough of that in Muggle school!

He mused about it for a moment. "I bet it was the influence of that Black fellow," he said at length. "He was a rich pureblood too, and I'm sure he would think someone like Professor Snape was really bellow him. And he was friends with my dad, so he might have convinced him of this."

Neville nodded sagely. "I can imagine that," he agreed. "I can ask Gran if you want – my parents were a bit older than yours, but they were at school together, so Mum and Dad would have met Professor Snape and maybe they mentioned him sometimes."

"That would be great," Harry agreed, "thanks. But how have you been? It's been two weeks..."

"Oh, yes, sorry about not writing." Neville looked sheepish. "The weather was really bad in Scotland, so I didn't want to put the owls through it if I didn't have to. And the only Floo connected fireplace at the house is in the drawing room, so I'd always have someone listening to our conversation if I Floo-called, and I always feel really awkward when they do that, so..." He trailed off.

Harry had been a little upset and nervous about the lack of communication, and was relieved to hear there was such a good explanation. "It's fine. You were in Scotland?" Harry had never been there, and it seemed very interesting to him especially because he knew that was where Hogwarts was.

"Didn't I tell you? Yes, that's where Gran's parents and grandparents live. There's a family reunion there every year after Christmas, to meet those that don't come to Longbottom Hall to celebrate with us. Which reminds me that I could probably ask Gran's cousin about Professor Snape and your dad as well."

"Gran's cousin?" Harry was getting well and truly lost.

"Professor McGonnagal. She teaches Transfiguration."

"Ah, so you will have an advantage too!" Being related to a teacher seemed much better to Harry than just meeting one for tea, as friendly as he might have been with his mother.

But Neville shrugged, looking rather uncertain. "I dunno...she's kinda scary too, and I don't really know her very well – she doesn't come to family reunions often. Plus I feel like she's absolutely scrupulously fair and there's no way to get an advantage in her class."

"Well, Professor Snape didn't exactly give the impression that he would go easy on me either!" Harry replied with a laugh.

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A suitable time was finally arranged for the Burke family visit to take place, about a month later than it had originally been intended. Alduin did not wholly regret that Harry had additional time to train his social graces before he met with his future relations by marriage.

Given the tentative rules that governed small family parties of the sort they were allowed to be giving, they only asked Alexandra's parents and her brother's family. It was probably better to introduce Harry to them gradually anyway. The whole clan at once could be a little overwhelming.

As it was, Harry was doing his level best to hide his nervousness as the four visitors appeared in the drawing room. Perhaps, Alduin thought, I overdid it with the warnings of how important this visit was just a little.

"Oh hello, Mr. Potter," Perpetua gushed as soon as the introductions were done. "I'm glad to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you – from Alexandra, and from my cousins as well."

Alduin could almost see Harry mentally reviewing the family tree and, to his satisfaction, clearly arriving at the correct conclusion, because he said: "It was a pleasure meeting them. Mr. Kingsley's stories were very interesting to hear."

"Oh, don't tell me he talked shop? How ill-mannered of him."

"Oh no, I actually asked him about it!" Harry hastened to reassure. "I was very curious about what the Aurors did."

"Of course you were," Alexandra's mother joined in, but Alduin was distracted from further conversation on that end by Theodore approaching him.

"Have you seen the new research published by Gillet?" He asked quietly.

"I'm afraid not..." Gillet was one of the best known Dark Arts theoreticians, and Alduin was not in the habit of reading his articles.

"Well, it's not strictly your field," his future brother-in-law conceded, "but I think you might be interested. Look it up."

"What is it on?" Alduin asked curiously.

"The Unforgiveables," Theodore replied, and his gaze flickered to Harry almost imperceptibly.

Alduin's face tightened. "Ah." He paused. "Does he make any...personal conclusions?"

The younger man nodded almost imperceptibly. "Quite a number of them."

"The proclivity of some people to write articles without any grounds for their claims whatsoever will never cease to amaze me," Alduin commented drily.

"Well, it's not like you'd give him leave to study your ward..." Theodore pointed out.

"No. Which is why he should not be writing articles about it."

"Alduin…" Theodore paused. "Well, I understand your protective instincts, but you can hardly expect people to just drop research of such interest because it makes you uncomfortable."

Alduin narrowed his eyes. "Believe it or not, I do not object simply because I don't like the idea of someone writing articles about Harry. I object to bad science."

Alexandra's father approached them at this point, and said quietly: "But Gillet does not do bad science. He works well with the data at his disposal."

"Wouldn't it be better, however, to wait a few years until Harry is old enough to give consent, and then write articles based on some actual interaction with him?" Alduin asked.

Mr. Tacitus Burke gave him a hard look. "With Riddle's return a constant possibility, many don't wish to take that chance."

Alduin tried to control his reaction to that pronouncement, and he was helped by Alexandra joining their group and laying a hand on his arm. "Dad," she said, in a softly chiding tone, "before dinner is no time for such grim pronouncements. It will spoil our appetite." And she deftly manipulated Alduin towards the group with Harry in it.

The boy was discussing the finer points of Aurors' work with Perpetua and did not seem in need of assistance, so Alduin turned to Alexandra's mother instead. "And how are your nieces, ma'am?"

"I suspect you know about Isobel better than I do," she replied. "I haven't seen her since Christmas. As for Narcissa...she is well, I think. Draco makes her proud."

Alduin smiled a little. "He is Harry's age, is he not?"

"Yes, about to head to Hogwarts next year. They boys should meet, surely?"

"Yes," Alduin agreed diplomatically, "they should. We are a little overwhelmed with visits at the moment, but I certainly intend to make the introduction in time."

"I am glad to hear it. Draco needs company that is worthy of him."

That caught Alduin's attention, for more than one reason. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Tacitus Burke pursed her lips. "Well, the boys his age he is most often seen with are the young Crabbe and the young Goyle. Surely you can see why I would not consider that ideal friends for my great-nephew."

"Indeed. But why does Lucius…?"

"Merlin knows why the man does the things he does. Goyle is his cousin, of course, but still. Young Nott visits sometimes as well, but you know how strange the father is. Really, partly it is just that all of Draco's closer relations that are his age are these boys, but why does he not attempt to curb their devastating influence, I do not know."

Alduin wondered if it was not, in fact, partly because no one else was willing to associate their children with Draco too closely. For all his money and influence, Lucius' taint was clear. It was one thing to cultivate an adult friendship there, with all the advantages it brought, and another matter entirely to drag one's children into it, especially as everyone knew the war would return sooner or later. After all, Isobel and Narcissa were cousins and while Abdulaziz was younger than Draco, he wasn't that much younger, and the boys could have been friendly – had Abdullah been willing to see something like this happen. But Alduin knew his friend, and knew that no matter his political ambitions – which were never too great to begin with – he would keep his children out of it. Others were likely to think the same way.

He would have to consider this very carefully.

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The temperatures have dropped sharply at the beginning of February, and Harry wanted to make use of the snow. Alduin was not very understanding.

"Extremely low temperatures," he said, "are meant to encourage you to stay at home and read, not to go out and build snow forts."

"Please! We have all these warming charms on our clothes, we'll hardly feel it."

"All of your clothes that has warming charms," Alduin replied, "have water-repelling charms as well. That would not be very productive for fooling around in snow, would it?"

"Well, it doesn't mater. We can just wrap up really warmly, and not stay too long, and then have hot tea afterwards and sit by the fire. Please?"

Alduin groaned. "Fine," he said, "but if I see one hint of a snowball fight, I'm going back inside and you will not coach me into the garden again until all the snow melts."

Harry tried to hide his disappointment.

He ended up doing most of the actual fort building work himself, while Alduin stood by and gave him advice, and helped out with a spell from time to time.

The end result was pretty impressive.

"Can I have Neville over tomorrow, please?" He asked Alduin once they were back inside. "I want him to see it before it melts."

"Harry, have you looked at the weather forecast? It's not going to melt any time soon."

Harry, who never as much as touched the newspapers, shook his head. "No," he admitted. "How do the wizards to weather forecast anyway? I there a spell for it?"

Alduin chuckled, taking off his wet cloak and heading to the fireplace in the afternoon parlour. "There are monitoring spells for the atmospheric phenomena, yes, but the actual forecasting is done exactly as in the Muggle world – by actually experts in the field working with the data."

"But, I mean, can't we predict the future?" Harry asked, joining him. "There's that prophecy..."

Alduin extended his freezing hands towards the fire. "Actual, legitimate prophecies are rare, done by Seers when they are inspired – not on demand – and often difficult to decipher. They would be useless to predict weather. Then you have all those people attempting to read the future in the tea leaves and such, but well..."

"It doesn't work?" Harry frowned. "Why do they do it, if it doesn't work?"

"Well, some Seers claim that it can help to inspire them – that's how all of those practices originated. But the success rate of that is very low, and mostly, it's just about people who are not very...magically competent attempting to earn some easy money."

"But why does anyone believe them?" The boy insisted.

"Harry, none of the fortune tellers in the Muggle world are genuine, and yet many Muggles still believe them. Why do you think that is?" Alduin asked, leaving the fireplace to pour out the tea that had appeared.

"Well, that's different. Witches and wizards know what real magic looks like, they shouldn't fall for that!" Harry insisted.

"But prophesying always looked different from all other forms of magic, at least as different as herbs and potions are from spell-casting. In fact, there is even some discussion about whether it should be called magic at all, or whether it should be regarded as a special kind of gift altogether. There are known Seers who had no other magical powers. But magic detectors do pick up on it, so..."

But Harry was caught by a different idea. "Muggle Seers? Really? Could I know any of them? Like, were they famous among Muggles or something?"

Alduin sighed. "It's not exactly my field, but remind me to tell Alexandra to devote one History class to that. Even though I expect she will be as thrilled with the topic as I am."

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AN: I started to headcanon Minerva and Augusta as cousins when McGonnagal referred to her by her first name in HBP and I was like, but wait, there would be too much of an age difference between them for them to be friends from school, unless the Longbottoms had children significantly later than what seems to be the norm in the wizarding world, so...of course! Relatives! And they were alike enough to make it really work to my mind. Of course based on the Pottermore information, Minerva would be the right age to be Augusta's school friend, since it makes her about 10 years younger that JKR's original statement that she was 70 at the time of the end of GoF...but I think I'll just ignore it. I like the hc too much, just as I like the idea of her being at school with Riddle too much.


	13. Snape's Tale

AN: This is the last "fast track" chapter, to make up for the summer. I will update every other Monday from now on (hopefully). I need to go back to having a cushion of chapters written ahead.

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Alduin was contemplating the Draco business.

He knew what most people were afraid of, of course. It was generally known where Lucius' loyalties were in the war, and sooner or later, his son would be expected to join as well. Anyone who was good friends with Draco from childhood risked being dragged down with him, and after they saw what it was like, everyone who still could was attempting to stay neutral when Riddle returned.

It was a reasonable strategy, of course...but.

Harry's position was different altogether. If there was one thing there was no danger of, it was him becoming a follower of Riddle.

There was, of course, the emotional trauma he would have if he had to watch his good friend become one. On the other hand, dangling a possibility of such a friendship for his son before Lucius could work wonders. On yet another hand, though, there was the Gryffindor outrage that would be bound to happen if such friendship occurred, headed by Augusta Longbottom.

So...the middle ground, then.

No close friendship could be encouraged, no cozy one-on-one visits like Harry shared with Neville now. But he would not discourage it either, and let it be seen if the youngest Malfoy had charms enough to gain a friend with no prejudice against him.

But there was still time for all of that. Harry needed more practice before he could hold his own with the Malfoys at least for a moment. It was time for the Crouches and the Ollivanders, and then perhaps that tea with Andromeda.

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Neville did come to make use of the snow fort in a few days, and as they were building tiny snow wizards on the walls, he said: "I asked Gran about Snape."

Harry raised his head from modeling a wand, curious. "And?"

"Well, she doesn't like him, that's for sure." Neville grimaced. "I should have known that – Gran doesn't like anyone from Slytherin, and he's the head of Slytherin, did you know? Anyway, she says he was all about the Dark Arts in school and is very dangerous, and that he actually used to be a Death Eater in the war."

Harry broke his tiny wizard's wand. "What?"

"Yeah..."

"Don't tell me Dumbledore would let a follower of Riddle to teach at the school!" Harry abandoned any attempts at sculpting to stare at Neville in shock.

"Well, Gran says Dumbledore said he was a spy for our side, but that she has some doubts," the boy explained, still concentrating on his figurine.

Harry was frowning. "I don't want to say anything against your grandmother," he said, "but I really don't think my mum would have been friends with him if he was some evil dark arts type of person..."

"Oh, don't worry about it too much." Neville seemed embarrassed. "Like I said, Gran doesn't like Slytherin. I reckon he was really a spy and she just doesn't want to believe it. I mean, after all, if Dumbledore says so..."

But Harry couldn't let it go so easily. Alduin had said Snape and his mum had fallen out, after all. Could it have been over something like this? He had forbidden Harry to ask Snape about it...it would make sense, wouldn't it? Too much sense…

Harry was starting to get angry, and Neville, who was watching him carefully, said: "Harry, calm down. I shouldn't have told you."

"You definitely should have – and Alduin should have as well! He didn't like my dad – ha, I bet! This must have been why!"

Neville winced. "Harry, you don't know that. Please, just...you're going to ask your cousin about it, aren't you?"

"You bet I am!" Harry was, in fact, already getting up.

"Don't go to him being all accusing," Neville begged. "Maybe he's right and my Gran is wrong. Just ask him calmly, can you do that?"

Harry sighed. "I'll try," he promised, "but I'm really angry."

"I can see that...though I don't really get why. It's not like he recommended Snape as best mate for you, is it? He only asked him because you wanted some friends of your mother's," Neville pointed out.

"Yeah, well, not Death Eater friends!" Harry exhaled. "I'm just mad he didn't tell me. I mean, I already know there are Death Eaters running free...he even explained to me why I shouldn't be as angry about it as I was, though I had some trouble accepting that..."

"Maybe that's why he didn't tell you? Because he wanted the visit to go calmly?"

"Yeah, maybe. But he still should have. He should have trusted me!"

Harry didn't say it aloud, but he felt hurt. It had really seemed to him like Alduin had faith in him and always told him the truth, and now this?

He took a deep breath and promised himself to wait for a while and then try and stay calm when he talked to his cousin, like Neville had said. There was a chance he had got it wrong, after all.

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Harry didn't want to confront Alduin over dinner, in Alexandra's presence, so he waited till the next morning, and at breakfast, he stated bluntly: "Neville asked his Gran about Snape and she says he was a Death Eater."

Alduin sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Did she tell him the rest as well, or would that be too much to ask?"

"You mean about him being a spy?" Harry poked at his sausage. "Yeah, but she doesn't believe it."

"Imagine my surprise." Alduin took a sip of tea. "I take it you don't believe it either?"

"Why did he and my mum fall out?" Harry answered with a question.

"Ah." Alduin paused. "It was not because of that, I can promise you...or not quite, at any rate. It's very personal for Professor Snape, and I really do not feel I have the right to tell you, but I can see that you will not believe me unless I tell you something at least."

Harry had the grace to feel ashamed at this, but it didn't change that Alduin was right.

Alduin seemed to steel himself, and then he began. "Professor Snape went to Hogwarts at the time when Riddle's influence over Slytherin reached its peak. There were many future Death Eaters among its students. Professor Snape did not share their belief – he was best friends with your Muggle-born mother, after all, and a half-blood himself – but he did not go declaring it too publicly. His life there was difficult enough, being poor and socially awkward, and I think you can't blame him for being unwilling to make it even harder. You didn't tell the Dursleys what you really thought of them either, I'd wager."

Harry, who had been about to protest that it had been cowardly of Snape, closed his mouth, and Alduin continued: "He slept in one room with some of those boys, boys who were raised by Death Eater parents. It would have been rather risky. They mocked him enough for your mother as it was. But he spent time with them, because at Hogwarts, you can't really avoid spending time with your house-mates, and so the Gryffindors, including your father, saw him as simply one of them, with the same misguided opinions. And the more your father and his friends mocked and harassed him for it, the more they actually drove him to the Slytherin ranks. It peaked one day at the end of their fifth year, when they attacked him very publicly. Half the school was there, watching him being molested, and everyone was laughing. His Slytherin mates were preparing to put an end to it by sneakily attacking your father when your mother appeared and spoke in Snape's defense. Snape saw the sneers of those who had been coming to help him just a moment ago, and he...well, his anger over the whole situation got the better of him, and he told your mother he did not need her help, and called her a Mudblood."

"A what?"

Alduin sighed. "It's a very offensive slur used by blood purity fanatics to talk about the Muggle-Born. As you can imagine, your mother did not take it well, and their friendship ended over this. He did join the Death Eaters later, likely because it felt like he had no other option, but changed sides as soon as two years into it, in spite of the terrible risk involved."

Harry was silent for a long while, slowly chewing his bacon. "So my father was attacking Snape because he thought he was a future Death Eater?"

"Among other reasons, yes." Alduin took another sip of his tea.

"And that led to him actually becoming a Death Eater later?" Harry continued.

"Yes," his cousin replied, putting the teacup down.

Harry frowned, thinking again. "It's really terrible," he said then. "I'm sure dad would have felt dreadful if he had known."

Alduin stayed silent.

"And mum didn't know either, did she? I mean, because she started to date dad afterward..." Harry couldn't imagine she'd date someone who drove her friend to such ends, even if he did it unknowingly and the friend in question offended her. Why did Dad harass Snape in the first place? Couldn't he have left him alone? Harry was still convinced it was that Black's fault.

"As you know, I wasn't really friendly with your mother," Alduin replied, "but I surmise that she did not know, as you say, and that she had perhaps suspected Professor Snape of real sympathies towards Death Eater for some time, and saw the word he used as a confirmation. So it would have seemed to her that your father had been right all along, and, well..."

"How do you know the things about Snape, though?" Harry demanded. "Were you friends with him as well?"

Alduin shook his head. "No. I know James' side of the story because I argued with him about it frequently, and the other side of the story because I knew some of the Syltherin classmates of Snape's, or their relatives. Not too well, but well enough to hear them complain about him from time to time." He sighed. "And then the complaints stopped, and I knew another young wizard was lost to Riddle, and your father was partly to blame for it. We had an enormous argument about it."

Harry looked brooding, half of his breakfast untouched on his plate. Alduin sighed. "He didn't know that was going to happen, Harry. Don't blame him for _that_ – in the end, joining the Death Eaters was Professor Snape's own decision. Just remember the lesson coming from this, and don't be too rash and too hard on people."

Harry only nodded mutely. "How do you know Professor Snape turned spy?" He asked, then, in a subdued voice.

"The time when Dumbledore says he'd turned spy corresponds with the time your parents went into hiding. It's not difficult to surmise he turned because of the danger to your mother's life, because it helped him fully realize what he had got himself into. And also, Harry, Dumbledore trusted him. I'm not one of his great admirers, but the man is not stupid and when he says Snape was loyal to him, then trust me, he has some very good reason to say so. However much he likes to pretend to be a slightly senile grandfather, he can be very sharp and ruthless."

Harry's frown deepened. For all his time at the Dursleys had been hell, the world had been somehow much simpler at that time.

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Before the Crouches came over and Harry had a chance to ask Ginevra Ollivander as was what it was like to be the best in her year, there was an evening event in which he had been asked not to participate: Alduin's group of bookish friends came over for an evening party.

Harry was expected to take dinner in his room. It was preceded by apologies and explanations from Alduin, who told Harry that normally, this was what happened when formal dinners were given by families – the children of the house ate separately. It seemed a little strange to Harry, and he wondered whether his cousin wasn't simply worried about him embarrassing him in front of all his clever friends.

He knew he was really supposed to be upstairs in his room, but instead he hid on the landing to watch the people arrive. The only one he recognized was Mr. Muhammad Shafiq, Alduin's best friend's father, whom he had met when they returned the Shafiqs' visit. There was a good number of really old-looking witches and wizards coming, some probably as old as Miss Burke's great-great-grandmother. In total, the group seemed to contain about twenty people, and Harry was truly curious about who they were. He supposed he would meet them in time, when he saw more wizarding families, but what was it that was so special about this meeting that Alduin didn't want him there?

When everyone was in the drawing room, Harry climbed up to his room and waited for Sibby to bring him his meal. "Do you know what are they discussing downstairs?" He asked then.

"Sibby does not know, Master Harry," the elf said, "but Sibby can find out!"

Harry struggled briefly with himself, and promptly let his curiosity win. "Yes, please."

Obligingly, Sibby disappeared, and when she returned to take his dirty plates away, she reported: "Sibby heard they were talking about the effect a possibility of time-travel with a chance of changing the timeline would have on prophecies and their reliability."

Harry frowned. Prophecies? Were they discussing him? "Did you hear my name mentioned, Sibby? Or Riddle's?"

"No, Master. They mentioned many names, most of them foreign, but not yours, and no mention of Riddle."

"Hm. Okay, then. Thanks," Harry said absently, and Sibby disappeared again.

Harry paced his room. Were they talking about him, or were they not? He wished he knew. He could ask Alduin tomorrow, of course, but he already felt bad about being angry with him over that Snape business. What if he was wrong in this case as well? But then again, what if he wasn't? If they were talking about something related to him, he wanted to know! Frowning, he decided to creep down again and try to listen at the evening parlour door.

He almost fell asleep there.

If the group inside was truly discussing something that concerned him, they were doing so in such obscure terms that he could not recognize it. He didn't even know half the words they were using, and the conversation teemed with 'paradoxes' and 'metaphysics'. When someone who appeared to be one of the older women by the tone of their voice started to speak in Latin, Harry decided it was time for him to retire. It appeared that, if he wanted to know, he would have to ask his cousin after all.


	14. Alduin's Warning

„Harry," Alduin asked at breakfast the next morning, „why did you hide at the landing yesterday?"

Harry blushed deep scarlet. "You saw me?" He asked in a small voice.

Alduin looked at him over his glass of pumpkin juice. "Of course I saw you," he said, putting it down, "and I wasn't the only one. It was a little embarrassing, even though all of the guests were too polite to comment on it directly, of course."

Harry was deeply ashamed now. He had realized as soon as he woke up today that his suspicions yesterday had probably been unwarranted, but to know that he had embarrassed Alduin – Alduin, to whom he had so many reasons to be grateful to! - in front of his friends was mortifying. "I'm sorry!" He blurted out.

"I am glad to hear it," Alduin replied seriously, "but mostly, I am curious to know why did you do it."

"Well..." Harry blushed again, poking idly at his food. "I was curious about these people – I mean, you have always introduced me to everyone and you didn't want me to meet them, so I wanted to see what was so special about them."

Alduin sighed and leaned forward a little. "There is no mystery to it, and had you said so, I could have introduced you before sending you upstairs. It is simply that on evenings like these, when I see the friends that share my hobbies, I wish to discuss said hobbies, and we couldn't do so with you there, since you wouldn't understand a thing. You will meet a good part of these people sooner or later, anyway."

"Not all?" Harry asked, immediately chastising himself mentally. He really shouldn't be so suspicous.

His cousin leaned back in his chair. "Probably not – not all of them move in the same circles I do, and so I hardly ever see them outside of these evenings."

Harry raised his eyes. "What does that mean, they don't move in the same circles?" Apart from the families he had met, harry had very little idea about what kind of circles his cousin moved in.

"Make a guess," was the man's reply.

Harry frowned. "They aren't purebloods?" He asked. That was one conclusion he had been able to make so far: everyone Alduin knew seemed to be a rich pureblooded wizard.

"It's narrower than that," Alduin explained. "They simply aren't from one of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses. In fact, only about five of them were."

"I recognized Mr. Muhammad Shafiq," Harry admitted.

"Yes. Apart from him, there was Mrs. Ollivander – you will meet her soon enough – and Valerius Prince." Alduin thought for a moment. "And I suppose Sarabeth Boot would count as well. She was born a Davies, anyway, even though she married a plebeian and doesn't really attend the social gatherings I go to anymore, so you are unlikely to meet her – except perhaps at the Davies' at some point."

"So who was the rest, then?" Who else did Alduin associate with?

The man laughed. "Did you think that the only Ravenclaws interested in transcendental sciences are the ones from the oldest families? In fact, there are even two Slytherin members of our little group. And both of them are from ordinary families. It's the common interests that makes us meet, not common ancestry."

Harry hesitated, wondering how to best get at what he wanted to ask about, and at the same time ashamed a little that he couldn't let it go. "Was your evening good, then?" He asked in the end.

"It was, thank you for asking," Alduin replied, piling some scrambled eggs on his fork.

"Did you have a good talk about your interests?" Harry continued his questions.

Alduin chewed for a moment before answering. "Yes. We always do. Mrs. Ollivander and Selena Quirke had a long and protracted argument about time-travel. I've probably revealed myself as hopelessly conservative by siding with the older lady."

"Was she the one who spoke Latin?" Harry asked curiously, and then his hid face in is hands.

"Harry," Alduin said slowly, putting down the fork that had been on the way to his mouth again, "were you listening at the door?"

Unable to speak, the boy only nodded.

Alduin straightened in his chair. "Once again, allow me to ask: why?"

"Well..." Harry had to force himself to speak. "I was curious, so I asked Sibby what you were talking about...and she said about prophecies...and so I..." Harry bit his lip. "Well, I wanted to know if you were talking about me, and so..."

His cousin frowned. "Harry, this is unacceptable. You should know by now that if there was something important concerning you discussed, I would tell you. And what would you have done if someone opened the door and found you there?"

Harry had no answer to that.

"You should know by now," Alduin said, "that etiquette matters to me, and listening at the door is certainly against it. I know you have never been led to uphold any kinds of standards in you behavior, but I must ask you to refrain from such thing in the future. It's unbecoming of you, and of me."

Harry wished he could just sink into the floor. "Please," he whispered, "I'm so sorry, just don't..." Don't send me back to the Dursleys, he finished mentally, unable to say it aloud.

Alduin's frown deepened. "Harry, we have talked about this. You will always have a home here, but I demand certain standard of behavior in turn, and am not above taking your broom, for example, should you fail to uphold it in the future. Now go get your school things, I think we will have two hours of maths today as a form of punishment."

Harry wanted to groan, but had to admit it was fair.

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Harry was reassured about Alduin not being ashamed of him that very evening, when the Ollivanders came for diner, and tried to be on his best behaviour for that visit as well as the following days. In what was fast becoming a tradition, Neville came to see him on Monday afternoon, and they escaped outside once again to talk, even though the slowly rising temperatures meant their fort was not as solid as it used to be.

"So...did you ask your cousin?" Neville asked, a little anxious.

"Yeah..." Harry said, kicking some wet snow. "It turns out it was kinda complicated."

Neville gave him a questioning look. Harry didn't particularly want to tell him about it, but decided it was only fair, since it was Neville who brought it to his attention in the first place. "He was a real Death Eater for a while, before he turned spy, apparently," he said. "But he turned after a couple of years. And well, the reason he joined in the first place...it had a lot to do with my dad."

Neville seemed shocked. "With your dad? What do you mean?"

Harry plopped down in the wet snow, uncaring for the damage he would do on the one cloak he had without water-repelling charms. He didn't look at Neville as he answered: "Well, he...the way I understand it, he just kept attacking Snape while at school, and Snape sort of needed some help against that, you know? And there were his Slytherin mates, who apparently were mostly Death Eaters in the making at that time, and Snape didn't really like that, but he needed someone, and so he sort of turned to them...and, well, that was that."

"That's really sad," Neville said, echoing Harry's thoughts, and squatted down to him. "Do you...I mean, do you know why your dad did it?"

"Well, Alduin said that because Snape hung out with the Slytherins, my dad assumed he was like everyone else from that House at that time. But...well, he didn't say so, but I'd bet Black had a hand in it." Harry squeezed a handful of snow in his fist without noticing.

"You think so?" His friend asked, looking at Harry with a troubled expression.

"Yeah. I mean, my dad wouldn't attack some guy just like that, would he? But if his best friend egged him on...well, that might be different. Black might have even made up stuff about Snape, I don't know. My cousin said he was a sociopath..." Harry had no clear idea what that meant, but he had heard it used on the telly and it seemed they were always the worst criminals.

"But didn't Sirius Black have family in Slytherin?" Neville asked, finally giving up and sitting on the ground as well. "Why would he be against them?"

Harry considered this problem. "What if he sympathized with Riddle already at that time? And knew Snape didn't, not really? So he might have encouraged dad to attack him..."

"So that he'd turn into a Death Eater?"

Harry frowned. "I guess, but I was thinking more simply because he'd be pissed Snape didn't go along with it, like the Slytherins were."

"But...Black wasn't going along with it either, was he?" Neville argued. "I mean, if he was friends with your dad, or pretending to, anyway, he couldn't have..."

"Well, like you said, he was pretending." Harry pointed out. "I wonder that he got put in Gryffindor though – it doesn't seem like a very Gryffindor approach."

Neville seemed to think about it. "There's something I have heard Gran's cousin say – the one that teaches at Hogwarts. That sometimes Sorting at eleven is too soon, because some people change a lot after that. Maybe that happened with Sirius Black?"

"I guess it could have." Harry considered this new information. "Do you think it happens often?"

"I don't know. I hope not, I mean, it would make the whole Sorting pretty pointless, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded. It was certainly something else to ask Alduin – or maybe better yet, Miss Burke.

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At the same time that Harry was outside, talking to Neville, Alduin was sitting and speaking to Alexandra in one of the drawing rooms. He had discussed the matter of Harry's trust issues with her, and now they were talking about Draco. Alexandra had been asked about that matter by her mother when the august lady found out that no invitation had reached the Malfoys in the weeks following the dinner conversation about it.

"Surely your mother can see why I can't have the Malfoys be the fifth family I introduce Harry to?" Alduin was asking.

Alexandra sighed. "She does see that. However, we have seen the Ollivanders already and are to dine with the Crouches at the end of the week. I know you meant to ask Andromeda for tea, but we are both aware she will refuse. And then what? You have other second cousins, of course, even some you can actually ask – the Davies, the Hilliards and the Odgens at the very least could be invited – but you have never been very close to them, and so once you did that, your cut to the Malfoys would start to appear very obvious. Are you willing to do that?"

"As well as to the Selwyns and to the Yaxleys," Alduin pointed out. "But you are right that I would rather avoid making the line between those I ask and those I don't so obviously based on the Death Eater criteria. Especially given the hypocrisy of it, seeing where my uncle is at the moment. That's why I wasn't planning on asking anyone else after the Crouches, not for now at least."

"Well, fine, but in that case...where do you go from here? Do you simply ask the same families over and over? That is possible, of course, but..." Alexandra trailed off, gesticulating eloquently with her hand instead.

"There is only a little over four months left till our wedding," Alduin replied, reaching for her hand and pressing it. "Once that takes place, we will be able to throw garden parties, and ask many more people without so much trouble."

Alexandra did not return his gesture of affection. "Certainly," she said. "Is that all you intend to do about Harry and Draco, then? Let them come together at a garden party we throw?"

Alduin sighed. "Well, there will be other people's parties before that...the season starts in a month or so."

"At another's garden party, then?" She said, raising her eyebrows.

Alduin sighed again. "What do you want from me, Alexandra?"

She answered with a question. "Have you ever met Draco?"

Alduin thought about it. "I have seen him, certainly, but it is true that I have never truly interacted with him."

"I have – as you know, Narcissa comes to visit Mother quite regularly, and takes him with her from time to time." She looked away. "I do not...care about him to quite the same degree Mother does, but nevertheless, I do care a little. The boy has potential, and his parents' spoiling, terrible influence and lack of any sensible friends are slowly but surely destroying it."

Alduin brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, understanding that argument at last. "Yet you never said anything before now," he muttered against her skin.

This time, it was Alexandra who sighed. "Because I do see how politically impossible it is. But your talk with my mother gave me hope that perhaps you decided it could be done after all..."

Another kiss. "I did, in a manner of speaking. But I need to keep balance here. I cannot be seen to encourage the friendship too openly, you know that."

Alexandra turned her beseeching eyes to him, and Alduin realized she cared quite a lot, in fact. He shouldn't have been surprised. Narcissa was her first cousin, after all. "Will you at least say something to Harry? Single Draco out for him?"

"You know that if I tell Harry to be friendly to Draco, he is more likely to do the exact opposite. He is not exactly pliable. Especially seeing what he knows about Lucius...he'd be suspicious." Alduin paused. "But I think I might have a solution. Tell your mother to make sure to be the first to throw a garden party this season. The only boy his age Harry knows is Neville, and he will be thrilled to meet another. If the Malfoys are asked...well, there are unlikely to be others present to be a competition to him, are there not?"

Alexandra considered it. "There would be the youngest Crabbe there, and the Smith boy too, I think, but I agree that they are hardly likely to catch Harry's attention."

Alduin frowned. "Is Crabbe truly necessary? I mean, he wouldn't hold Harry's attention, but he might occupy Draco's..."

She rolled her eyes. "You know he is, his grandmother and my mother are too closely related. But I wouldn't worry about it, Draco will drop him as soon as he sees someone more interesting. Especially if that someone is Harry Potter."

Alduin blinked. He didn't think a Malfoy son, of all people, would react in this way.

As if reading his mind, Alexandra said: "Of course he will not say anything, but you didn't honestly believe he'd be ignorant of Harry's importance, did you? No one is. Isobel told me their children were so excited about seeing him for the first time they were impossible to manage several days before the visit."

Alduin was honestly surprised. "You wouldn't have known it to look at them."

"Well, of course not. They have manners. Still, it's a fact that Harry will never have to worry about people being willing to talk to him, and I have no faith in his ability to choose proper friends for himself. We have to help in that," she finished insistently.

"By recommending Draco Malfoy?" Alduin couldn't help asking.

Alexandra rolled her eyes at him once more. "Don't act all Gryffindor," she said. "It's not like you don't think he needs someone to balance out Neville Longbottom."

Alduin sighed. It was hard to argue with that.


	15. Noble and Most Ancient House of Crouch

Harry was sitting in the evening parlour of Travers Manor, trying not to fidget. He was excited about the Crouch visit they were waiting for, chiefly because he knew the guests would bring their son Edmund with them. Edmund wasn't eight yet, so really just a kid, but still, it would be interesting to meet someone else who wasn't an adult

The family arrived exactly on time, and as they greeted the hosts, Harry waited to be introduced and watched them. Mr. Jonathan Crouch was quiet and precise, his dark hair cut shorter than any wizard Harry had met before. His wife, on the other hand, seemed open and lively, smiling widely where her husband stayed serious.

Edmund, from what Harry could see, took more after his father.

He approached the boy after the introduction was over, while Alduin and Miss Burke talked to his parents. "So," he said, choosing a topic his limited experience suggested should work, "how many years do you have left until Hogwarts?"

"Three and half," Edmund replied. "And you?"

"I should be going this autumn – provided that the letter arrives!" Harry said, laughing a little, masking his very real nervousness about it.

"Don't you think it will?" Edmund asked him seriously. "Haven't you done accidental magic?"

"Oh no, I have – quite a lot of it actually," Harry confessed, thinking of all all his escapades in the Muggle world. There had been no accidental magic since Alduin had taken him in, he realized.

"Then I thought there was no reason to worry?" Edmund said, now seeming a little worried himself. Apparently, his own accidental magic had been a great source of comfort to him.

"You're probably right, there isn't, it's just..." Harry trailed off, knowing he shouldn't talk about how it was all still so new to him and so he was sometimes expecting to wake up and realize he was in a dream.

"Just what? Edmund asked, quietly but insistently.

"Oh, I don't know – nerves, I suppose," Harry said with an awkward smile.

The younger boy frowned. "But if you've done lots of accidental magic, why are you nervous about it? The only people I know being nervous are the ones who haven't done much..."

"And do you know many people who will go to Hogwarts next year?" Harry asked, wishing to change the subject.

Edmund seemed to consider. "There's Milicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott – those two I know for sure. Maybe Zacharias Smith and Hannah Abbott as well? Probably some others that I don't remember. And Kiara Shacklebolt only went last year, so I remember what she said about it, too."

"Oh, you know Kiara?" Harry asked, excited to hear a name he could put in proper context in his mind, but then he paused. "I'm sorry, of course you do, you're cousins, aren't you?"

"Third cousins, yes."

"Right. Anyway, I've met her parents, but I don't really know her...what is she like?"

Edmund appeared taken aback by the question. "She's...well, okay, I guess. Fun? She's always running around. I don't know her too well, though – I mean, she isn't my best friend or anything," he hastened to add.

"Who _is_ your best friend, then?" Harry asked curiously, privately thinking that Edmund appeared to be the kind of boy to whom _everyone_ would seem to be 'always running around.'

The younger boy considered this question carefully. "Charles Bulstrode, probably. I like Abdulaziz Shafiq a lot too, but I see Charles more often, I think, and I'll be in the same year with him at Hogwarts, at least."

Harry was not too confident about this part of the family tree. "Is he a brother of the Milicent you've just mentioned?"

The younger boy shook his head vehemently. "No, cousin. He's cleverer than Milicent, too, even though she's older."

"Well, I guess that's why you're friends with him, isn't it?" Harry asked jokingly.

"Yes," Edmund replied, completely serious.

Harry was at a loss about what to say next, but fortunately he was saved by the dinner being announced.

Once they were all seated at the table, Harry listened to the adults discussing their mutual acquaintances for a while as he ate. There was a lull in the conversation, and then he heard Alduin ask Jonathan Crouch: "And how is...your sister?"

His eyes flew to his cousin. This was the first time since he met Alduin that he heard anything but perfect politeness or dry amusement in his tone while in company. He couldn't tell what that strange note in his voice had been, but he was sure it had been there.

"She is well," Jonathan Crouch replied in those calm, measured tones of his. "As is Augustus. He has recently displayed his first signs of accidental magic, and Eliza says they are about to throw a celebratory party. Perhaps you would consider coming?"

"I will think about it, of course, but we are rather busy at the moment," Alduin replied, not looking at his guest. This was all very strange indeed, Harry thought. He had wondered about whether the Princes would be asked, being curious about the family that disinherited Professor Snape. He'd bet his broom this was somehow connected to the invitation not having happened yet, but he couldn't think how. "And your uncle? As busy as ever?" Alduin continued.

"Oh yes. I don't think Uncle Bartemius knows how not to be busy. I haven't seen him for at least two months, he claims he has too much work to visit. Father went to see him at the Ministry about two weeks ago, I think – the only way to have a chance to talk to him, as he says."

Harry swallowed his mouthful of potatoes. "Your uncle works at the Ministry of Magic?" He asked, curious. "In what department? I have met only Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt, he is an Auror..."

"Oh, yes, I am aware." Mr. Jonathan somehow managed to make Harry feel very stupid for adding that piece of information. "My uncle is the head of International Magical Cooperation."

"That sounds very interesting!"

"You wouldn't know it to talk to him," Mrs. Jonathan muttered, and her husband gave her a reproachful look.

She seemed chastised, and turned to Harry, saying: "Talking about family, I'm sure many people tell you that, but you look very much like your father – with your mother's eyes. I was in the same year at Hogwarts with them, you know."

"Oh, yes, Professor Snape told me you were the best in their year."

She smiled. "He wasn't far behind, at least in some subjects. Then again, neither were your parents."

Harry put down his fork, curiosity overwhelming hunger for the moment. "Did you know them? More than by sight, I mean."

"Well, yes, I would say so – your mother was excellent at Charms, my own field of choice, and we've worked on a project or two together. As for your father, well, he was a boy from an Ancient family my own age, so of course I knew him some. We weren't truly friends or anything, but we talked to each other often enough."

Harry considered asking for more information, but then changed his mind. He didn't think Ravenclaw students, in general, had too good an opinion of those who attacked Slytherins because of prejudice, and she might not have considered Black's influence enough of an excuse. Better not tempt fate, he decided and returned to his potatoes.

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The weather improved at the beginning of March, and Alduin took the opportunity to take Harry out for a field trip. "I have promised you," he said, "a Muggle village, and to a Muggle village we shall go. It seems a bit of a waste, however, and so we will take in Warwick Castle as well – I assume you have never been?"

"No," Harry said, excited, and went to dress in Muggle clothes like his cousin had told him to.

It was strange wearing trousers again after such a long time, and Harry understood why wizards preferred robes. He had never realized before, but trousers really did chafe in so many places, especially the fancy ones that Alduin had ordered for him at his tailor's.

The village was nice - all old-fashioned stone houses and a church that came back from Middle-Ages. Alduin used it to explain some important points from history, and they had lunch in the local pub. They didn't talk much, Harry observing everything and enjoying himself immensely. When they finally got to the castle, he was astonished.

"It's so huge!" He said, looking around. They were standing in the central courtyard, the high walls and even higher towers looming above them. Harry spotted some people in medieval costumes, and his excitement grew. He wished he could have his broom here, to fly around the castle and see it from above, but of course that was hardly possible, with Muggles everywhere. The courtyard seemed made for running, too, but Harry controlled himself and stayed by his cousin's side.

"Yes," Alduin nodded. "One of the biggest castles in Britain. Don't worry about not having enough time, we can come back in a few days if you want. It might be worth it for the park, anyway – I believe there is a sequoia tree growing here somewhere. Will you want to see the Royal Weekend Party exposition? That's new since I was last here..."

"I want to see everything," Harry replied decidedly. He couldn't wait to tell about it all to Neville and his Gran, who were scheduled to come for another dinner a few days later, and wondered whether Neville had ever been here.

Alduin did his best to oblige.

Even if it meant some uncomfortable explanations.

"So the ladies were all, like, cheating on their husbands and they didn't mind?" Harry asked in a simultaneously astonished and disgusted tone, staring at the plaque under one of the wax figurines.

"Not all," Alduin corrected. "But yes, it wasn't entirely exceptional among the aristocracy in the Victorian times."

"You sound like it's normal. Does it work the same way in the wizarding world? I mean, do witches..." Harry trailed off, blushing.

Alduin laughed. "Harry, are you actually asking me whether Alexandra is going to cheat on me?"

"Forget I said anything," Harry muttered.

"The answer to your questions," Alduin replied nevertheless, glad for this opportunity to explain some things, "is, of course, that it differs marriage from marriage. Some marry purely as a political alliance – though that is less frequent nowadays – and in such cases, it's quite common that the partners agree to give each other freedom in their sexual relations, with the understanding that no children can be born from such encounters."

A lady with two small children was passing by them at this moment, and she gave Alduin a dirty look. He ignored her and continued: "The more romantic feeling there is in the marriage, the less likely such agreement is. It can change over time as well, when people get tired of each other's intimate company."

"But isn't it...I mean, isn't it wrong?" Harry insisted, even though he was bright red by now.

"Why?" Alduin asked.

"Well...I don't know. Don't people promise to be faithful to each other at the wedding?"

"Well, that rather depends on your vows. Certainly those who marry in church or have vows based on the Christian ones do, and so most Gryffindor and a good number of Slytherin families would tell you that yes, sexual faithfulness is expected. But many of my ancestors had marriages built around a different concept. My grandparents, for example, were mostly good friends, and tended to find diversion elsewhere."

Now Harry seemed horrified. "Your grandparents? But..."

"What is it, Harry?" Alduin was still amused.

Harry seemed reluctant to speak, but when Alduin kept looking at him, he said: "Even when you were already alive?"

"...yes?"

"But they must have been old!"

"Thy were a little over seventy when they died, so not so very old."

Harry's horror grew, and Alduin decided not to torture him any more and leave the matter be for now. Clearly, the boy had some prejudices that should be worked on, but he was still young and at an age when sex in general probably horrified him. It was better to do this in stages.

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AN: The story told in the Royal Weekend Party exposition always made me wonder what do the parents tell their children about it...


	16. The Burrow

AN: The last chapter felt like a bit too much of a filler to me (not that this story has had much in the way of plot so far anyway), so here's a bonus update to make up for that!

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In the following two weeks, Harry, together with Alduin and Miss Burke, dined with the Longbottoms and the Shafiqs again, and Neville's visits became more frequent in the better weather. They were becoming close friends now, and Harry even convinced Alduin to let Neville try flying. It wasn't hard to see that Neville did not have the natural talent that Harry could boast of, but, nevertheless, it hadn't been a complete disaster.

Harry was slowly beginning to think that he would perhaps settle into his life, with no new people to meet after two months of doing nothing else, and more of a fixed routine appearing, and was trying to decide how he felt about that, when he heard his cousin telling Miss Burke: "There is no helping it, we have to ask them before the first garden party."

He tried to restrain his questioning glance, but Alduin caught it and said: "How many times, Harry? Ask. Your. Questions."

"Okay, um...what's the problem?"

"Well, we have introduced you to all of the families I closely associate with, and you are quite acquainted with Neville, of course. There is, however, one more family you should meet before you are introduced to the more general company of the wizarding crème de la crème. There is no helping it, we will have to ask the Weasleys."

"Only for tea, I hope?" Alexandra said pleadingly.

"Of course! The last thing I need is having to suffer through a dinner at their house in return for our invitation." He paused. "The good thing is that it's school term, so most of the children will be at Hogwarts. It will be only the gentleman and the lady, and a couple of the younger offspring. I'm honestly not sure how many."

Harry didn't bother saying that if his cousin disliked them so much, there was no reason to ask them. He had already tried that, and it had been explained to him why that was not true. Besides, he was sort of curious, though it was curiosity mixed with dread. From what Alduin told him, these Weasleys had been friendly with his parents. Not so long ago, he would have been thrilled by the discovery, but now was not so sure. Alduin didn't like them, and Alduin argued with his father about his treatment of Snape. Was the reason for his dislike similar in this case? Were the Weasleys one of those, apart from Black, who had encouraged his father to attack Snape? He decided to proceed with caution.

The day that dreaded visit was to come, Alduin took Harry aside and said: "I'm sorry I couldn't quite control my feelings about this in your presence, but the Weasleys are really not my kind of people. However, that's not saying they won't be yours. I wouldn't want you to get influenced by my opinions – and prejudices – to have an unnecessary dislike of a family who was one of your family's principal allies. I would like you to form your own opinions."

Harry nodded. "At any rate, I'm looking forward to meeting the children," he said. There, at least, he knew for certain he would have nothing to reproach them with.

But the moment the Weasleys arrived, he realized that Alduin's problems with them had likely nothing to do with attacking Snape, or anyone else for that matter.

While all the other wizards he had met on these occasions were dressed more or less on par with what was the norm in the Travers household, the Weasleys' clothes was clearly old and ill-fitting, reminding Harry of what he wore while he had lived at the Dursleys. Also, they somehow completely lacked the grace everyone else seemed to have to some degree, the grace Harry admired and tried to imitate. It was very confusing to him, because he knew they were one of the great families, so how did this happen? Both children were very obviously staring at the drawing room they were ushered into, giving the impression that they have never seen something like this in their lives, which, again, confused Harry. Surely they had many rich wizarding relations, even if they themselves were poor?

"Mr. Weasley," Alduin said, "Mrs. Weasley. Welcome. Allow me to introduce Harry Potter, my first cousin once removed and my ward."

"Hello, Harry, darling," Mrs. Weasley said, making him cringe a little. "These are our children, Ron and Ginny."

"Hullo," Ron said a little awkwardly, while Ginny only looked shyly to the ground.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, seconded by his cousin, who asked everyone to take a seat. The tea appeared, and as they started to eat, Harry turned to the children – conscious that in the present circumstances, it was for a large part up to him to make a conversation – and said: "So, how much time do you have left till Hogwarts?"

"Oh, I'm going in September," Ron replied.

"Really? Me too! Are you eleven already?"

"Yeah, my birthday was a week ago." Ron seemed to be staring at Harry's forehead for some reason.

"Happy belated birthday, then!" Harry said, trying not to be unnerved by it. "Mine's only at the end of July. I can't wait to get the letter, though."

Ron nodded his assent.

"And you?" Harry turned to the girl.

She raised her eyes to him quickly, then cast them back down. "Next year," she muttered.

"It must be nice to have a sister who is so close to you in age," Harry said, turning back to Ron, deeming him a more hopeful object as far as conversation went.

Ron shrugged. "Well, I have two brothers who are only two years older than me, so..."

"Really? Twins?"

"Yeah. But they are at Hogwarts already."

"Well, obviously! I mean, if they are older...do you have other siblings?" Harry asked, not sure if four children were enough to count as a whole bunch in his cousin's mind or not.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Weasley joined in here. "Fred and George are in their second year, as Ron just told you, but then there is Percy in his fourth and Charlie in his seventh. And we have another son, Bill, out of Hogwarts already – he is in Egypt, breaking curses for the Gringotts!"

"It must be difficult for you," Alduin said, "having your eldest so far from home."

"You're absolutely right, it is – and our second son decided that he will go to Romania after he graduates, to care for dragons, of all things! I do not know why all of my children have to insist on scattering around the globe."

Alduin privately thought he could venture a guess. If he had been born to Molly Weasley – gods forbid! - he would certainly do his best to get away from home as soon as possible.

"I think you can be calm in Percy's case," Mr. Weasley joined the conversation. "If his plans hold, he wants to work for the Ministry, so he will stay home as long as even you could desire, I daresay."

"Do you know what you would like to do?" Harry asked Ron.

"I haven't really thought about it much. I mean, playing Quidditch professionally would be cool, I guess...And you?"

Alduin shifted a little in his seat. Harry knew why: as the head of Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, Harry would not need to work, and would be unlikely to have the time, what with his place in the Wizengamot and other duties connected to such a position. However, it would be insensitive to say so, so instead, Harry just said: "I agree with you, that would be totally cool!"

He took Ron and Ginny to his room soon afterward, and once there, Ron became a lot less subdued, though Ginny's shyness did not abate. "Do you really have the scar, like they say?" He asked, plopping down on one of Harry's chairs.

Ah, Harry thought. That explained the stare. "Yes," he said. Ron's stare returned, and sighing, Harry pulled back his hair for a moment to show him.

"So that's where You-Know-Who…?"

Harry was confused for a second, before he remembered that Alduin had warned him this was how some people called Riddle. He had never heard it used in practice before. "So I am told," he said, "but I don't really remember it."

"Nothing at all?"

Harry frowned. "Well, some green light," he said, and then, wanting very much to change the topic, he added: "You said you'd like to play Quidditch professionally, so I take it you're a fan? What's your favorite team?"

This topic worked even better than it had with Neville all those months ago, and Ron was off, talking about the Chudley Canons. Harry personally did not think much of that particular team, but judged it wiser not to say so, and mostly listened for the rest of the time the siblings stayed in his room.

Once the Weasleys were gone, Alduin turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow. "Well?" He asked.

Harry shrugged. "They're not so bad, I guess – Ginny is really shy – but I think I can see why you don't like to see them too often. They don't really have manners, do they? I mean, if even I can tell..."

"Yes, Harry, they don't have manners. I am proud of you for noticing it."

"But how is it possible? Didn't you tell me that they are one of the old families? And how come they're so poor, too?"

Alduin sighed, and led the way back to the afternoon parlour. "The Weasleys have been scorning proper education for generations," he explained as he walked. "Their poverty is part of it. In other old families, the family seat is always entailed, meaning that only the eldest son can inherit it, or daughter if there is no son."

He sat down in his usual armchair, and Harry chose the sofa, listening in interest as his cousin continued: "It's rather hard luck on the younger sons, of course, and it is the reason why so many old families only ever have one, but it ensures that the main line of the family does keep having a good income, and if some misfortune befalls any of the family's other members, they can provide for them. The Weasleys decided to break the entail many generations ago, resulting in the family inheritance being divided into smaller and smaller parts, until finally it came to nothing. Mr. Weasley works at the ministry, but in a very badly paid job. Mrs. Weasley...well, she was educated properly- she is a Prewett by birth – but I imagine having seven children does not leave you much time to teach them social graces, or to keep yours up to date. Especially without any household help. The fact that they are hardly asked anywhere where it matters plays a part, too, I suppose – she had had no reason to remember."

"Does she work?" Harry inquired.

Alduin smiled a little at the question. "No. In spite of her changed situation in life, she was raised in the belief that she'd never work a day job, and she kept to it. And of course, when the children were little, she really couldn't have."

"But that's been a while now, hasn't it?" Harry pointed out, and then he frowned. "And anyway, she must have been raised to believe her husband would never have a regular job either, and he does anyway. It's strange, isn't it? I mean, I remember how everyone in Muggle school laughed at me for the terrible clothes I wore. The Dursleys hated me and so they didn't care, but well, I don't suppose the Weasleys hate their own children, so why don't they do anything about the fact that they have to wear old, badly fitting clothes?"

Alduin nodded. "You've managed to hit precisely on the reason why no one who matters talks to the Weasleys any more. Because they seem to intentionally bring their House as low as possible and then keep it there, and that is simply not done. In the wizarding world, family is everything, and we have very little understanding for those who neglect it. Mrs. Weasley refuses to find a paid job, Mr. Weasley works in one of the lowest paid positions you can have at the ministry without being a house-elf, and they have seven children. I respect the fact that someone desires to do what he loves, but he has to accept some degree of responsibility and not have seven children, for Merlin's sake, if he is unwilling to provide for them properly."

Harry considered this. "I kinda agree that it's wrong," he said, "but, I mean, it's not the kids' fault, is it? And if no one talks to them either...I mean, yeah, Ron really was kinda rude, but from what you said, he just doesn't know any better...and if no one talks to them, how is he supposed to learn? I wouldn't have known how to act either if you hadn't told me..." Harry did not like Ron much, but felt bad about his old and badly-fitting clothes and was remembering when he was dressed like that and no one would talk to him. He didn't want anyone else to go through the same thing.

Alduin gave a deep sigh. "You're right, of course – Ronald cannot really be held accountable. We can attempt to ask him for some of your afternoons with Neville if you want, and I can promise you that I will treat him as well as I am able."

Harry considered this. He didn't actually really want Ron to intrude on his time with Neville, but it would be hypocritical to refuse now, and so he just nodded.

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When they were asked for a return visit to the Burrow, Harry was shocked even more – the contrast between it and the other houses he had seen was striking. Didn't the Weasleys even inherit a house from their ancestors? Everyone else seemed to have a mansion of some sort, so why did this family live in something that seemed to have been put together by a giant child playing with his building bricks?

The living room they were ushered into was rather worn and rickety too, but the cake that accompanied the tea, at least, was excellent.

"It's a pity it's so cold and raining again," Ron said, "otherwise we could go and play one on one Quidditch outside. But come up to my room, I want to show you something!"

Once Harry entered and saw all the Chudley Canons posters, he sighed in resignation. It appeared this visit was going to have much in common with the previous one.

They had visited the Shafiqs just a few days ago, and Harry was now thinking nostalgically about his talk with Abdulaziz. The boy wasn't nine yet, but conversation with him was certainly more entertaining than with Ron. Sometimes, it was more entertaining than with Neville, but Harry felt too guilty thinking that, and so he pushed the thought away and tried to arouse in himself some interest about Ron's favourite team.

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It was now the end of March, and with his cousin's and Miss Burke's help, Harry managed to finish all of his course books. He had hoped it would mean he wouldn't have to have classes any more, but that showed he really didn't know his cousin very well yet.

"I bought you books for seventh year," Alduin said one cheerful Monday morning, "and I am very happy that you will have a chance to get a little ahead. If we work through the summer, we might even get a good part of it done."

Harry stared at him in horror. His cousin laughed. "Not as hard as we do now," he assured him, "but I will want you to put in at least two hours a day, even during the holidays. These are important things to know, Harry, and Hogwarts under Dumbledore won't prepare you for it."

"How come we've finished my sixth grade books so quickly, anyway?"

"Well, one-on-one education is always more efficient than just sitting in a classroom. Especially as no one ever worked with you at home. Now, let's look at what changed for wizards after the Battle of Hastings..."

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AB: Just a reassurance to Ron fans: this is not a Ron bashing fic. I'm not his huge fan, but, like, he's an 11 year old kid here. It's hard to blame him, and don't worry, you haven't seen the last of him.

(Similarly, I don't hate Molly and Arthur...but I don't think they are such wonderful parents as JKR seems to imply. I mean, it is of course possible that there is an unemployment crisis in the wizarding Britain and Molly can't find a job even with all of their contacts, and Arthur can't get a better one, but I didn't get the impression from the books. And of course, Alduin is being a snob – it's very easy for him to criticize when _he_ never had to work to earn his living.)


	17. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw

When the first garden party invitation arrived, Alduin explained to Harry why exactly it was that they were so crucial.

"The rules about returning invitations do not concern them, and so you can meet people there we would not be justified to ask for a small family dinner such as those we were having in the last months, because we are not close enough to them. Also, it is normal to bring children to garden parties, contrary to dinners."

Harry frowned. "But, I mean, I have always been to dinners with you? And other children too..."

"Yes, because they were small, family affairs," Alduin replied, vanishing most of the parchment and banishing the rest of it towards a table by the window. "Full formal dinners have different rules."

"And when do I stop being regarded as a child?" Harry asked curiously, peering at the pile that already contained a number of longer personal letters. None for him, though. Of course, he and Neville saw each other too often these days to exchange letters. Perhaps he could write to Ron?

"Once you are fourteen, in this sense," Alduin said, tapping his table in a rhythm that made the breakfast food disappear.

Harry pouted. More than three years to go! He had hoped being eleven would make the difference.

"It will be your first time in wider society, Harry," Alduin continued, "and it's very important how you comport yourself. I fully trust you to be capable of not embarrassing me, so do to disappoint me."He paused. "The Malfoys are going to be there."

Harry wondered why was Alduin telling him this. "Yes, I know, I won't ask Mr. Malfoy about being a Death Eater."

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "I should certainly hope not, not if you ever want to see your broom again, but that is not what I was going to say. They have a son, Draco. He is your age, and a rather clever boy from what I know, but..." He hesitated. "His parents spoiled him rotten, and he tends to think of himself as very grand, and has a tendency to command those around him. Do not be put off by that too much – in some ways, his case is similar to Ron's, only in exact reverse. If he tries it on you, do not let him, and remember that you are the head of your house and family, so that, if nothing else, puts you above him. It would be a shame to sour your relationship with one of the few boys your age in our circles if you got off on the wrong foot..."

Alduin certainly knew how to arouse Harry's curiosity, and conflicting emotion. Harry did want to meet more people his age, but...Ron in reverse? What did it mean? That where Ron was badly raised and poor, Draco was badly raised and rich? Harry was inclined to have much less sympathy for that, but when he thought about it a little, he had to concede, though unhappily, that Draco couldn't be blamed for the way his parents raised him any more than Ron could. Still, Harry thought, at least he had the money to compensate for it.

Arriving at the garden party, Harry was astonished to see how huge it was. Enormous, really. He now understood that when Alduin had said wider society, he had really meant it. "How many people are here?" He asked his cousin.

"About a hundred and fifty, give or take a few," came the answer, and Harry's jaw fell further.

He was very glad that he had gone through all those visits before. It meant he knew some of the people present, or at least, he had seen them a few times, since he could hardly be said to know them after that.

Neither Neville or the Weasleys were there as far as he could see, but lots of other children were, and they were all seated in a separate section a bit apart from the adults. Harry found out from Mrs. Theodore that there was quite a group of them who would be starting Hogwarts in September – apart from him, it was Vincent Crabbe, Zacharias Smith, Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbott...and Draco Malfoy himself. A blond boy was speaking when Harry reached the group to which the helpful Mrs. Theodore had directed him. When Harry heard him, he wondered whether that was, in fact, the infamous Malfoy. "I absolutely count on being in Slytherin," he was saying in a superior tone of voice, "even though I don't really expect to meet any of you there, except maybe for Crabbe."

Harry was noticed then, and introduced, and tried to guess which of the names Mrs. Theodore had mentioned belonged to which face before he was told. He hadn't been wrong, the blonde boy was really Draco Malfoy. Harry immediately understood what his cousin meant when he spoke about him.

"I resent your doubting our Slytherinness," the girl called Pansy said in an irritable voice to Draco, when the introductions were over and Mrs. Theodore left. "Both of my parents were in Slytherin, and I think I might like being there myself. I think I have very good chances, too, with that heritage."

"Oh please," Draco sneered. "You're a Hufflepuff family. One generation won't change that."

The blonde girl – who if Harry remembered correctly was called Hannah – frowned at this, and Zacharias Smith said: "Well, I for one certainly don't expect to be in Slytherin, and neither would I want to be. I don't boast Death Eaters among my relations, so I don't want to go to Hogwarts just to learn to be one!"

Harry stared at him. He could also see why Alduin had said that no one liked the Smiths! To say something like this, when from what Harry knew, almost everyone had some Death Eaters in their family tree! Harry himself certainly had a number of that, and had no plans to join that career! Before he could say something, Draco, whose cheeks gained a slight pink tinge, retorted: "Better be a Death Eater than be stupid!"

Harry absolutely couldn't agree with Draco, but he wanted to shut the stupid Zach up as well, and so he said: "I for one am glad I don't have to chose between the two!"

Draco turned to him. "Headed to Gryffindor, aren't you?" There were still traces of disdain in his voice, but it seemed to be mainly for his house of choice.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I would like to go there, anyway, even though I know my cousin would rather see me in Ravenclaw – but I think he knows I'm not made of that kind of stuff."

"Too stupid, are you?" Zacharias this time.

"Look who's talking," Draco came to his defence.

Harry wanted to say something rude to the Smith boy, but remembering Alduin's faith in him, he said instead: "I can't really know that, can I? It wasn't what I meant. But, well, seeing my cousin, he just likes to read all the time, and while I like books just fine, I think I will always prefer flying, on a nice day."

Flying was a topic they could mostly agree on, and so for a time, the discussion was amiable. Harry found that when Draco wasn't sneering and was, instead, talking about something that interested him, he could be really likeable. Then Hannah and Pansy were called by their younger siblings to settle some sort of dispute, and Zacharias and Vincent wandered off with them. Harry stayed with Draco, not knowing anyone in the group the rest was headed to. "I'm surprised there are so many Hufflepuffs, or future ones, here. My cousin always made it seem like all Ravenclaws liked to stay as far away from them as possible," he said, to start some kind of conversation.

Draco laughed. "Generally true, I suppose," he said, "and an attitude that is very praiseworthy. But well, Pansy's grandfather was actually a Ravenclaw, however that happened, and he married a Hilliard, so that's how they came to be invited to this elite society."

Harry laughed as well. "I didn't say I agree with my cousin," he said. "He's clearly biased."

"Still," Draco replied, "I have to say that you have a surprisingly relaxed attitude about your own house. I mean, most Gryffindors I know are all about their house being the only one worth something!"

Harry snorted. "Well, you were exactly like that yourself in that conversation! I guess it's natural enough. But, you know, living with my cousin, it's different for me. He won't allow me to forget Ravenclaw's good qualities!"

"Hm, yes, it's a decent house. I mean, if I wasn't in Slytherin, I would like to be there. I suppose it would be your second choice, too?" Draco gave him a look out of the corner of his eye.

Harry smiled. "Actually, I was thinking that if I couldn't get Gryffindor, I would like Slytherin."

That got Draco's attention. "Really? Wow. I didn't expect you to say that. Why?"

Harry thought about how to explained, and recalled the Ravenclaw families he knew, especially the Crouches and the Burkes. "Well, it just seems to me that proper Ravenclaws never ever do something, they just sit and talk, or, well, read. I don't like that. I like how Gryffindors seem to prefer action, but even I can admit that sometimes you can't just rush in and then the Slytherin approach is better, I guess. You might work slowly, but you still do something for what you want to do, instead of just, I don't know...writing long essays."

Draco laughed. "You have a point," he said. "I don't like this about Ravenclaw either, but Gryffindors seem to me, well, just too stupid, no offence. Like you said, rushing in. But I guess we can both agree on Hufflepuff being our last choice?"

"Totally! I don't see how anyone can want to be there."

"Neither can I, and I imagine meeting Zacharias didn't exactly improve its image for you, did it?"

"You bet it didn't." He looked around and lowered his voice. "My cousin told me no one likes the family, and now I understand why."

Draco laughed.

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It was two days after the party that Harry's name first appeared in the papers.

Alduin was reading them over breakfast, and was very glad he got down before his ward did and so could snatch the offending thing before Harry could see the headline on the front page: Harry Potter Appears In Public For The First Time.

The article itself was not so bad. He and Alexandra were loved by the press, being a rich pureblood couple about to get married and always taking care to treat its representatives as kindly as possible – having ancestral wards around your house that prevented any reporters getting too near helped significantly in this respect. Thanks to this, the news that Harry Potter was now his ward was presented in the best possible light, though with as much drama as could be, as well. The author of the article turned it into a romantic story about a devoted relative, a hero of the last war – for Alduin had been quite popular even before his engagement, owing to his long stay in coma – taking care of another poor boy orphaned by the terrible forces of evil. Alduin rather resented being called a poor boy by anyone, but was well aware this was the best possible spin to put on the story, and would make it difficult for Dumbledore to meddle too much, should he desire to do so in the future. So he tried his best not to let it worry him.

What was a very real issue, however, was how to tell Harry.

Even without opening the letters that waited for him, Alduin knew there would be requests for interviews with the boy there. They would be refused, naturally, but it had to be done in as pleasant a fashion as possible, if he did not wish to turn the tide. Alduin himself should probably talk to some reporters, as much as he hated to do so. And Harry needed to be told, and there was no predicting how he would react.

At this very moment, the boy entered the room, and Alduin folded the papers so that the front page with the headline was not visible. "Good morning," he said.

"Morning," Harry returned, turning immediately to the bacon.

"There's an article about you in the Daily Prophet," Alduin said, opting to be direct.

Harry stared. "What?"

"Yes. On the front page, too."

"But...why?"

Alduin smiled a little. "Harry, you are a celebrity. You have not been confronted with it yet, because the people I have introduced you to have too good manners to be obvious about their interest in you, but, nevertheless, you are one. They are going to be writing about important happenings in your life whether you like it or not."

"But nothing important happened to me recently!" Harry objected.

"No," Alduin agreed, spreading butter on his toast as he explained, "but you were seen in a sizable gathering of witches and wizards for the first time. You must realize that until now, they had no idea where you even lived. Now they know it is with me, and they have heard rumors about what you are like. Of course they will be crazy about that."

Harry hesitated. "Can I read the article?"

Alduin sighed. "Yes, but I should warn you: it is a pile of rubbish. They have been writing about me a lot ever since I left hospital, and about Alexandra and me ever since our engagement was announced, and now you've been incorporated into that story, and it has turned markedly more soppy."

"So they write about you as well?" That seemed to make Harry feel a little better about the situation.

"All heads of Noble and Most Ancient Houses are considered worth a mention in the papers, though none as much as you, naturally. I'm used to it. They've been writing about my great-great-grandparents and great-grandparents my whole childhood, so it's not a strange idea to me." Alduin took a bite from his toast, chewed for a moment, and added: "You will have to get used to it as well, and get used to dealing with the press...but all in a good time. For now, I'd like you to know that I'll agree to give an interview, and perhaps Alexandra as well, and that it will necessarily concern you a lot."

"But why?" Harry asked uncomprehendingly.

"Well, as I've told you, you're a celebrity..."

The boy shook his head. "No, I mean, why will you agree to it?"

Alduin put his toast down to concentrate fully on his ward. "It's important to maintain a good relationship with the press, as much as they might irritate you," he explained. "They will wish for an interview with you, but I have no intention to allow that, not until you're older, and even then only if you're willing. However, making it a flat-out rejection could be harmful to the way we are written about, so instead I will say that I'm trying to give you as normal a childhood as possible and that I will talk to them instead and answer any questions the might have. Alexandra might do an interview for the Witch Weekly."

"But why does it matter how they write about you?" Harry insisted.

Alduin smiled. "Having bad press can affect you very materially, Harry. Especially you. I'm an almost married adult with my own money, they cannot directly touch me, but you...you're about to go to school, and the people who meet you there will be influenced by what they've read about you in the papers. And you will spend the next seven years at Hogwarts, it matters very much whether it's a friendly environment towards you."

Harry mused about this for a moment. "Okay," he said then. "What are you going to tell them?"

"Probably a lot of soppy mush, the sort of thing they like to hear." Alduin paused. "It is sometimes even amusing, really. Making up ways in which you can serve the story to the reporter...I'll tell you some of my tips before you go to your first interview."

That seemed to throw Harry again. "But why don't you simply tell them the truth?"

"Because, Harry, reporters get to keep their job based on how popular their articles are, and they are popular when they write what people want to hear. If you don't present your interview in a form that the people will like, it will be edited to be so. It's better to have control over what happens to your story."

"I didn't know journalists lied so often," Harry said, frowning.

"There are many kinds of journalists," Alduin replied. "For one, it is easy to call it lying when your job does not depend on it. For another, yes, the stories in the Prophet are mostly worthless, but there are one or two monthly wizarding publications that are actually worthwhile, and the journalists there do a very good, investigative work. Needless to say, they're not the ones who'll be interested in the moving story of you living with me." Though, Alduin added mentally, if one of them caught wind of your treatment at the Dursleys...that would be when we would have to worry. Some of those people were very good, and would not rest until they got to the truth. And while Alduin did sort of agree that Dumbledore's neglect in this matter should be exposed, he wished to spare Harry the pain of it, and also, in spite of his objections to Dumbledore, he would much rather his aura of holiness outlasted the war that was surely approaching. It could come in useful.


	18. Abdul the Shacklebolt

_I should have known it would be Ron who'd bring up the interview first_ , Harry thought morosely. It was Thursday afternoon, and the youngest Weasley boy had joined him and Neville in Travers Manor, or more precisely in its gardens. The weather was unseasonably warm for mid-April, and they were sitting in the grass by a pond behind the house. "You made the front page twice in the last week," Ron was saying, attempting to sound nonchalant. "That's impressive."

"It's not like it was because I tried," Harry pointed out. "I was shocked when my cousin told me I was in the papers."

Ron blinked at him. "What do you mean? The papers have been bringing you up now and then for years."

"Well, I only found out about it now. And it's seriously weird."

"Gran says it's a waste of time, reading that rag," muttered Neville, who was markedly more subdued in Ron's presence, and Harry was reminded of the beginnings of their friendship.

"My parents don't have many nice things to say about it either," Ron admitted, "and I remember Bill saying once it was only good for wiping your arse."

In spite of himself, Harry laughed. Neville looked a little shocked, though. "What is Bill's work like?" Harry asked, eager to change the topic. "It sounds pretty impressive, from what your mum said."

Ron smiled. "The stories he tells are so cool," he replied. "You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff the Egyptians put into those pyramids." He then spent several minutes describing it, and Harry had to admit that it was, truly, very cool, and he had serious trouble believing some of it.

"How does one become a curse breaker anyway?" He asked. "Is there a special school for it?"

"Nah. Bill just signed up after graduating Hogwarts – had to have insanely good NEWTs to be even considered, though – and did a half a year course or something. I remember the twins commiserating with him, that he just graduated and was going back to school."

"So I take it they're not planning to be healers?"

Ron laughed. "Merlin knows what the twins are planning," he said then, "apart from blowing up everything they come across."

"Ron told me he'd like to be a professional Quidditch player," Harry said, turning to Neville and trying to draw him into the conversation. "It would be cool if we could go and cheer him at his matches, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Neville said, quietly, and then asked: "What is your favourite team, Ron?"

Harry silently groaned. And they had been doing so well!

In spite of the prolonged Chudley Canons discussion, however, the visit turned out better than expected, and though Harry was certainly grateful that he still had his afternoons only with Neville, he did not mind the idea of Ron coming again at all. The only thing he did worry about was how to make Neville talk when it wasn't just the two of them.

He talked about the Egyptian curses at dinner, and noticed Alduin and Miss Burke exchanging long looks. "What is it?" He asked.

"Well, Harry," Miss Burke replied, "I fear Ronald might have been exaggerating a little. Or perhaps his brother had been, I cannot know that."

"Have you studied ancient Egypt?"

"Well, I am a historian. It is not my specialization, true – my books are on medieval history, and my chief side-interest is the modern one – but I do know a little about Ancient Egypt as well, yes."

"Wait," Harry was distracted, "books? You have written books?"

"Well, yes."

"That is so cool." Haryr turned to Alduin: "Have you written books too?"

"You might not have noticed," his cousin replied, "but I have been rather busy with fighting a war, and then being in a coma. But I would certainly like to, one day."

"About what?"

Alduin smiled a little. "About the nature of Time," he replied.

Harry blinked. He didn't quite know what to think of that, and so he turned back to Miss Burke. "And what are your books about? I mean, I know you said medieval history, but exactly…?"

"One is about Scottish influences on the establishment of separate wizarding society in Britain, the other is a study of political situation in Wizard's Council in the fourteenth century, and at the moment, I am working on the wizarding world's responses to the first witch hunts."

"Can I read it?"

"You may, of course, but...I'm not certain you'd find it entertaining. It's very detailed. It would be better to start with some general books first. If you are interested, there is a number I can recommend, beyond what Alduin already gave you."

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

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The next garden party was at the Shacklebolts, and it was much smaller than the Burke one had been. When Harry asked Alduin about it, his cousin sighed. "It is considered good manners to ask at least the cousins of all living members of a house, and their families, to a garden party. With the Burkes, it means over a hundred people. With the Shacklebolts, however...Nathan's parents are dead, as are his grandparents and those who came before them. It makes for a much smaller party. Also," he added, "the Shacklebolts are less of social climbers than the Burkes are, but don't tell Alexandra I said this."

Harry laughed. "Did the Shacklebolts die in the war too, like my family or yours?"

"Yes. They have a family history of fighting for freedom, so of course they wouldn't keep out of the conflict. Nathan, as the youngest heir at the time, mostly stayed out of it, but the rest of his family pulled no punches...and paid for it."

Looking around the garden, Harry asked: "What does it mean, that they have a history of fighting for freedom? Have they fought in previous wars as well?"

"That too, but it goes deeper than that. They came to England before the Conqueror...they are one of the oldest wizarding families here, along with the Shafiqs and the Smiths."

Harry looked up to him surprised. "But wait...if they are so old, how come you didn't name them among the most important when I asked?"

"Because, as I've said, they've never cared about increasing their political – or financial – capital so much. They have other priorities. The founder of the family was originally a slave, and he was freed after his master figured out he was a wizard – keeping magical slaves was just not done, because as I'm sure you can imagine, it could have potentially disastrous consequences. Abdul the Shacklebolt then convinced his old master to free his parents and siblings as well, and he made it his family's mission to help end slavery in England. The legacy stayed with them, and they are often Aurors, as you can see with Kingsley, or similar." He smiled a little. "They got in big trouble in times of the American Civil War, because wizards are not supposed to meddle in Muggle politics, and especially not in foreign Muggle politics, but they were very involved on the side of the North there. Not that anyone overseas followed the rule about wizards not interfering anyway, there were hundreds of wizards who participated, on each side, but I suppose having an English as-good-as-aristocratic family do it and effectively boast of it was a bit too much. Some of the Southern wizards were very bitter about it. Nathan sometimes jokes that he's still afraid to visit Alabama."

Harry frowned. "But wasn't it hundreds of years ago?"

"Not quite as much as that, but over a hundred, yes. That is not much to wizards. There are still people alive who remember it. Nathan's great-great-grandfather liked to recall his father's stories from the war, since he was the one of the family who was most directly involved in the fighting. _His_ uncle, in turn, helped to train the Northern wizards, since he was an Auror who worked with Muggle police in England and knew a lot about the kind of indirect, hard-to-detect support used when helping Muggles, and his wife took part in supplying the army with potions and herbs that were difficult to get in the North." Alduin paused. "We really should go and talk to other guests, we're being impolite, but I'm sure Alexandra can recommend you some books about this as well."

"Is there something Miss Burke _cannot_ recommend me books on?" Harry asked rhetorically.

He spotted Gamila and Abdulaziz in the group of children standing nearby and approached them. "Hey, Harry," Abdulaziz greeted him. "What were you whispering about with your cousin over there?"

"He was telling me the cool history of the Shacklebolts, in brief."

Abdulaziz grinned. "Oh yeah, it's super impressive, isn't it?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. Did you know the founder of their house was named sort of like you?"

The younger boy seemed surprised by the question. "Er, yeah. I mean, our families originally come from the same area – well, kind of – so..."

"Wait, they do? But you aren't...I mean, you don't look..." Harry trailed off, confused. Mr. Shacklebolt and Mr. Kingsley both had dark skin, much darker than the Shafiqs.

Abdulaziz laughed at him. "No. We're originally from North Africa, but our ancestors were the Arabs who lived there, while the Shacklebolt line comes from down south."

"But...how did you both turn up living in Britain, then?"

"Oh, your cousin didn't tell you that?" Abbudaziz smiled, but he seemed a little embarrassed. "Our ancestor was the trader and slave owner who brought Abdul the Shacklebolt over to England."

"What?"

"Yeah..."

Harry, worried that he'd just made a colossal blunder, uncertainly asked: "So, like, did your two families hate each other or something?"

Abdulaziz seemed to relax a little. "No, not at all. After Ibn Ismail freed Abdul, he basically adopted him – because Abdul was a kid at the time – and taught him about magic. And when Abdul demanded his family was freed, he was pretty receptive. And Ibn Ismail's sons, who sort of grew up with Abdul and were his friends, then kinda supported him in his fight against slavery."

"They grew up with him? Even though their father was some rich slave-owner, and he was an ex-slave?"

Abdulaziz looked at him like he was stupid. "Well, they were all wizards."

Harry blushed. Even though Alduin had told him, he tended to forget that, when all was said and done, that was the only division that truly mattered to the wizarding world.

"The real big deal was convincing Ibn Ismail's sons to help the British Muggle slaves," Abdulaziz continued. "I mean, they were basically settled here, but they still thought of the British as kind of barbarians, so our ancestors were like, why should we help all those non-magical uneducated losers? And Abdul convinced them that exactly because they were better educated, it was their responsibility..."

Harry wondered why he never heard about these people in Muggle history classes, if they were apparently so important. Surely the Muggles must have noticed someone fighting to end slavery? It was yet another thing he'd have to ask Miss Burke about.

"You know really a lot about this stuff," Harry said.

"Well, like I said, the histories of our families are really interconnected, so Dad made us learn this pretty soon. Gamila could tell you most of it already, I guess."

Harry wanted to ask something else, but in that moment, two girls he didn't know approached them. "Hey," the younger of them said, looking at Abdulaziz, while the older one was giving Harry a curious look.

"Hey," Abdulaziz said, a lot less enthusiastically than the girl. "I guess you don't know each other? Harry, these are Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, Daphne, Astoria, this is Harry Potter. Daphne starts at Hogwarts this year as well, right?"

"Yes," Daphne replied. "It's nice to meet you, Harry." Her younger sister echoed her.

"You too," Harry said. "So, do you have a house preference?"

"Not really," Daphne admitted. "I mean, my family was traditionally Gryffindor, but my granddad was in Ravenclaw and my parents are both Slytherins...my uncle and aunt and cousin are still Gryffindors, though, and so is my grandmother...so I really have no idea." She paused. "Well, except that I don't want to be in Hufflepuff."

"I think we can all agree on that," Harry laughed.

"Oh, I don't know. I just escaped Susan and Benjy, and they both sounded like they were destined to go there..."

"Susan and Benjy?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh, right, I guess you don't know them. Susan Bones and Benjy Fawley."

"Well, they are both traditional Hufflepuff families," Harry said, trying to be fair and proud to demonstrate his knowledge at the same time.

"Well, I guess Susan really can't help it – nothing but Hufflepuffs in her family tree for generations – but Benjy...his mum was a Gryffindor. He should know better."

"I don't know," Astoria joined the conversation. "I mean, yes, the Boneses are very Hufflepuff, but I've heard that Amelia, Susan's aunt, is pretty cool. Maybe it's not so bad..."

All the remaining company gave her disapproving looks, and Astoria frowned and abruptly turned to Abdulaziz. "Where's Gamila?" She asked. "I actually wanted to talk to her."

"I dunno," the boy replied. "She left some time ago. I'd look for her with the Burke children if I were you."

Astoria nodded and left. "I actually wanted to talk to her – no, she didn't," Abdulaziz muttered.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Oh, nothing – only Astoria hounds me all the time, so I'm not gonna believe she was really after my sister."

"Leave my sister alone," Daphne said. "Who is she supposed to talk to, Fawley?"

"I don't just mean this party," Abdulaziz replied. "Every time we're somewhere together..."

"Well, she normally spends time with Harriet – Bulstrode," she added, turning to Harry, "but you two are hardly ever together at the same event. So she has to find someone else."

"She's welcome to Gamila. It's not like my little sister has anyone much to play with here either."

"You're impossible," Daphne said, irritated. "I think I'm going back to Bones."

"Enjoy yourself."

After Daphne left, Harry turned back to Abdulaziz and asked: "Why do you mind Astoria so much?"

"Uh, I don't know. She just bothers me...and she's a girl."

That, Harry had to concede, was a very good point.


	19. Squibs and Blunders

AN: Sorry for being a little late with this, I got behind with my other story and couldn't manage two different chapters from two different fandoms in one day.

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Harry next met Draco at a garden party at the Crouches. The guest list there was very similar to the one at the Burkes – something to be expected, Harry supposed, with two Ravenclaw families – and so he soon found himself sitting with the Malfoy boy again, grateful that Zach and Pansy took their argument about something or other elsewhere.

"I noticed Mrs. Longbottom is here," Harry said, "but she didn't take Neville with her. I wonder why that is? Everyone else's children are here..."

Draco shrugged. "He never comes. They say he is a little...you know...slow in the head."

Harry sat up, offended. "Hey! Neville is my friend."

"Really?" Draco looked at him in curiosity. "What is he like? He's probably the only Noble and Most Ancient family heir I've never met..."

"Certainly not slow in the head," Harry said tartly. "He's kinda shy, though. But still, I don't get why his grandmother won't take him here."

"Well," Draco said slowly, "the other rumour I heard was that he was a Squib, so..."

Harry remembered the story Neville had told him, about his family fearing the same and performing all kinds of stupid experiments on him. It didn't seem right to share it with Draco, so he only told him the final bit: "He totally isn't, because he told me about his accidental magic when he fell out of a window and bounced all the way across the street."

Draco laughed. "That's kinda cool. Okay, no Squib then either. In that case, I really have no idea why he isn't here." He paused. "What was your accidental magic?"

"I've done quite a lot of it, actually – jumping on the top of a building, shrinking a sweater I didn't like, growing my hair overnight..."

"Impressive."

"What was yours?" Harry was curious what people who weren't bullied either at home or at school did.

Draco smirked in memory. "Most often, I summoned stuff I wanted to me, like brooms and toys and the like. Sometimes I blasted people who irritated me away, too."

"Like who? Strangers, or family, or…?"

"More often strangers, but sometimes family too. Like my mother, once, when I was six and she insisted it was bedtime already," Draco admitted, and Harry laughed.

"Father was furious with me," the blond boy added. "It was the only time I've seen him truly angry. At me, I mean, he gets angry at other people plenty."

Harry nodded in understanding. "It's really memorable, isn't it? I mean, I've made my cousin angry at me for the first time recently and it's really something that sticks with you..."

"What did you do?"

Harry blushed.

"Come on, Harry, you can't let me tell you and then refuse to reciprocate." Draco poked him in the shoulder. "Out with it."

Harry slapped his hand away and muttered: "Well, my cousin had visitors over and I was really curious what were they talking about...so I...snuck down and listened at the door."

Draco stared at him. "But why?" He asked.

Harry had a distinct feeling that that was something he should not tell Draco, given that all that information about prophecies and him was not exactly public knowledge, so he just said: "Like I said, I got curious."

"I can't imagine being that curious about what the adults were discussing. What kind of visitors was it?"

"My cousin's Ravenclaw friends, the ones that have the same bookish interests."

Draco looked ever more astonished now. "And you said you're not interested in being in Ravenclaw? But you risk listening at the door to hear this crowd talk?"

Harry was sorry he had said anything. "Well, they talked about prophecies," he admitted in the end. "It seemed like a really cool topic."

Draco gave him a very sharp look. "Ah," he said only, but then mercifully changed the topic and their attention shifted to the garden party that was to take place at the Malfoys in two weeks, and who was going to be there.

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Alduin was walking with Harry in the direction of the Tower when the boy asked: "How come you know how to move around Muggle London so well? From what I could gather from Neville, he's never been out here...he was really shocked when I told him about this trip, or the one to Warwick, too."

"Neville is hardly your go-to example, given that his grandmother hardly lets him out of the house," Alduin replied, "but you are right that my Muggle-worlds orientation skills are probably above average. The Shacklebolts are as good as I am at it, though, and so were my parents, and Neville's, and your own father and his parents. Can you guess what is it that ties this group of people together?"

Harry thought about it. There was only one thing that occurred to him, so even though he didn't understand the connection, he said: "The war?"

"Yes. Those who participated actively in the last war learned to find their way around the Muggle world. We took any advantage we could get, and this was one of them. I had my Muggle-Born classmates from Hogwarts teach me everything hey could about blending in. Of course, they got to me in the end anyway – to most of us – but we did last longer, I believe, than had we not known how to go about this."

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Harry sniggered. "So you had, what, being-a-Muggle classes? What did they teach you? I mean except not going out in robes."

Alduin rolled his eyes at this. "Many things. Muggle money. Using the public transport. Orientating yourself in supermarkets. All those tiny little differences between the worlds." It had not exactly endeared the Muggle world to him, either. It was useful knowing how to move around there, yes, but it all seemed so crass and vulgar...he much preferred keeping to his manor, even though he did realize, of course, that part of the problem was that the parts of Muggle world that were useful to him were precisely the crass and vulgar ones, the ones full of people, the popular ones. He would likely like the aristocratic world much better, but what use was that to him?

Harry seemed to want to ask something else, but then they turned the corner and he saw one of the guards for the first time. "Wow," he said. "They're...cool."

"I do agree. Come, the line is terribly long, as always, you can admire them from it."

Harry did, to his heart's desire. "Why are there so many people here?"

"You can see the Crown Jewels inside. That's enough of an attraction."

"Are they very impressive?"

"They are, rather. A fitting symbol for the monarchy, in any case."

"Does the Queen know about..." Harry looked around and lowered his voice. "About us?"

"This is not the time and place for this conversation," Alduin replied, "but yes, of course she does. Who do you think asks the Minister to lead the Ministry? She is the Queen of the whole country. All ministers are _her_ ministers, technically speaking. It's _her_ government."

Harry seemed to be bursting with questions, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, and Alduin passed the time in the queue by looking around, at the guards and the ravens. It had been a long time since he had been here, but the Tower stood quietly unchanging, the buzz of tourists no more to it than a swarm of irritating flies to a rock. Alduin looked in the direction of the execution site. "Did you know," he asked Harry, "that Ann Boleyn was accused of, among other things, being a witch?"

"Really?" Harry lowered his voice again. "And was she?"

Alduin laughed a little incredulously at that. "No, of course not. Do you think that if she was, she would have simply let herself be executed?" He asked in a light tone that would make anyone listening in on their conversation think he was playing along with Harry's fantasy. The people behind them in the line were French and the ones before were speaking some Slavic language, but with English, unfortunately, one could never be sure how many spoke it.

"Well, if they took her wand..."

"You think witches can only cast spells with their wands, do you? Don't you think that the moment her life was in danger, she would have found some...other means of saving herself?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully, clearly thinking of his own desperate accidental magic. "It was Anne of Cleves who was the witch," Alduin added quietly, and saw Harry's eyes go as wide as saucers.

"But I thought she...why did she not...could she not make the king stay with her, then?"

"What you're suggesting is extremely immoral and, in fact, illegal, and the fear of this is one of the main reasons witches were persecuted in the first place," Alduin replied. They were finally at the ticket office, and after making the purchase, Alduin took Harry aside and added: "Besides, you're assuming Anne wanted to be with the king. But she was far from stupid, as much as she might have played herself to be sometimes. She knew what happened to Ann Boleyn, and she knew the dangers. She didn't like Henry, and with a combination of some repulsing spells used on herself and some Confundus used on the king, managed to prevent the consummation of marriage, and later ensure annulment, and a prosperous future for herself."

"Were many members of the royal family witches or wizards?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not many, no. And Anne was Muggle-Born, so she came from a Muggle aristocratic family. It just so happened that she was magical, and had a sensible witch to teach her back in Germany." He paused. "At the risk of repeating myself, there are many books you can read about this. Now come, let's look at the Jewels."

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"...and the diamond in the sceptre is huge," Harry was saying to Neville, sitting in his room. The weather had turned terrible again, and it was cold and raining outside. The garden party at the Shafiqs, which was to come next week, was going to be unpleasant unless something changed.

"It must be awesome," Neville said, a little sadly. "Did your cousin take you anywhere else in London?"

"Yeah...he said that we should take things in by areas, so he showed me the London Bridge and St. Paul's, and St. Mungo's, too."

Neville gave Harry a quick look. "You were at the hospital?"

"Yeah." Harry looked down, cursing himself for mentioning it. "We didn't go to see your parents, though," he muttered. "I mean, I wasn't sure if you'd have wanted me to…"

"It doesn't matter," Neville said. "I mean...maybe I'd like to go there with you one day, to introduce you to them, you know? So that they know you're my friend. But you going there alone...there'd be no point." He fell silent for a moment, then added: "They don't really recognize me, they'd have no idea what to do with you."

"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry said miserably.

"It's not your fault, is it? And it's not like you're...anyway." The 'it's not like you're any better off' hung in the air, unsaid.

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Neville muttered. "The hospital is really kind of impressive, though, isn't it? Even I can see it, in spite of...everything."

"Yeah," Harry replied, still not looking at Neville. "It's huge, and it all seems so complicated...so many different sections and wards…"

"Which ones did you see?"

"We had tea in the tearoom, and then we went to Spell Damage and Creature-Induced Injuries. I think my cousin wanted it to be a cautionary tale to me, to be careful at Hogwarts." He grimaced. "It worked. I mean, they didn't let me in the rooms or anything, but you meet people in the corridors..." Then he realized what he was saying, and whom he was saying it to, and blushed deeply, apologizing again.

Neville seemed determined not to let the awkwardness return. "So you didn't go to Potions and Plants? I've always wanted to see that one. Of course, when we're there, we never go anywhere but the Closed Ward, but..."

"Hey," Harry said, desperately trying to make up for his blunders. "Maybe when we go to see your parents together one day, we can stop by on that floor."

Neville gave him a soft, grateful smile.

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AN: It's never been a question to me, about the Queen knowing. Of course she does. I also like to imagine that while the Minister for Magic doesn't go to cabinet meetings – obviously – he is, formally speaking, part of Her Majesty's government. Simply responsible for one of the sections, you know? (The Prince of Wales would totally know, too. Not sure about the Duke of Cambridge. It would probably depend on how trustworthy the Queen thought he was.)

And I really like the idea of St. Mungo's being close to St. Bart's. To my mind, they were originally one hospital, and then in the 1600s, as the Statute loomed near, Mungo Bonham started an independent magical wing, which turned into a separate hospital entirely as the Statute was ratified.


	20. Curiosity of Mr Burke

AN: Last chapter felt a little fillery, so I wanted to post this one earlier as a bonus, but didn't quite manage. To make matters worse, this one isn't exactly plot thick either. So I'll try to post again on Wednesday, as a sort of early Christmas/winter holiday present.

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The Burkes were visiting Travers Manor once again, and this time, Alduin was approached by Alexandra's mother almost as soon as they arrived. "Thank you," she said, "and my apologies for being impatient."

"I am sorry I cannot do more," he replied.

"Yes, it would appear you actually are." She smiled at him. "Well, politics is a constraint for us all. I would have been in a difficult situation myself, had my grandchildren been older. Do you think you could possibly drop by at the Mansion with Harry when Narcissa is visiting with Draco, or would that be too much?"

Alduin considered the request. "Perhaps in a month or so," he said. "It is too early still."

"Very well," she replied, her face unreadable.

"If everything goes according to plan," he added, resenting the impulse to make amends, "it will be better once Harry is at Hogwarts."

"Well, yes – but then he will be at Hogwarts."

That was, of course, the crux of the matter.

Alduin noticed that while Alexandra was chatting with Perpetua, Harry was facing off the two men, and he moved in their direction with some alacrity. "What subject at Hogwarts interests you the most?" He heard Theodore asking, and slowly exhaled.

"Well, I would say History," Harry replied, "but Miss Burke and my cousin warned me that it's not worth much. I'm excited about the subjects that'll teach me to cast spells, of course, but it's harder to have any idea what I'll be dealing with there. Defense sounds impressive, though."

"Oh yes, it is one of the most fascinating things to study," Alexandra's father said, and Alduin groaned silently, prolonging the groan as the sentence continued with: "but of course to do it effectively you need to know a lot about the Dart Arts themselves."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry replied. "I remember Mrs. Theodore telling me Defence was her field. Did she have to study the Dark Arts a lot, too?"

Theodore smiled a little at this. "She mostly uses my expertise for that."

"Oh, is that your field?"

"Yes. My father and I both devote our time to theoretical study of these matters."

"Of course," Mr. Tacitus continued where his son let off, "it is crucial to have enough data for this. I have been considering..."

Alduin, who had expected this to come ever since the moment he noticed Harry standing with Alexandra's father, tried to think of a very polite way to intervene. This time, he was saved by the gentleman's wife herself. Even though she had been talking to the other women, she apparently never stopped listening, and now she motioned for them to approach the rest of the guests, saying: "Are you discussing Defense without Perpetua, dear? How very rude of you. You are here, having all the fun, while she was forced to listen to Alexandra and me talk about medieval charms. This will simply not do."

Alexandra's father looked chastised, and said: "Forgive me, Clarissa, love. Of course we should have included her." Then his eyes glinted. "Perpetua should of course join us and explain to Mr. Potter herself why knowing something about the Dark Arts is so important for doing Defense properly...while you and Alexandra can go back to discussing your own interests."

His wife gave him a poisonous look, but she could hardly oppose this, so she retreated some distance away with Alexandra once again. Alduin was frustrated, and taking a look at him, Theodore took pity and said: "Actually, I think Mr. Potter would be more interested in continuing the discussion I believe he had with Perpetua the last time we were here. You were talking about Aurors and Auror training, were you not? Did you meet Giacomo Proudfoot at our garden party? He's an Auror, so I thought you'd be interested."

"Oh no, I didn't meet him, though I remember Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt mentioning him. I'm sorry I didn't realize he was there."

"Oh well, he should be at the Shafiqs' the day after tomorrow as well, so you can talk to him then. "

The conversation continued to develop in this direction, and Alduin slowly relaxed. He didn't get a chance to talk to Alexandra privately until the moment she was standing in front of the Floo fireplace, preparing to leave, and then, she apologized to him in a low voice. "You know Dad doesn't mean anything by it," she said. "He's just curious. It _is_ his field, after all."

Alduin did know. He even understood a little. But it was still insupportable, and he was not willing to let Harry deal with being an experimental subject before he was even eleven.

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In spite of his grumbling about having to study the seventh grade materials, Harry was enjoying his studies more than ever before. Even the things he hated, like math and science, have got better because he was no longer so bad at them, and history and English were downright enjoyable by now. His cousin decided they should go over Shakespeare in detail, and at the moment, Harry was reading Macbeth and completely loving it. He had been intimidated by the ancient-sounding language at first, but really, it wasn't so hard to understand as he had feared.

But when he mentioned it to Ron on the redhead's next visit, the boy just said: "Merlin, that sounds like a dead bore! I am glad I wasn't raised by a Ravenclaw," and Neville looked kind of confused and said that his grandmother concentrated on practical thing more in his classes.

"But, I mean," Harry said, puzzled, "you have to have some English and such, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but really only one lesson per week or so. And mostly, it's about writing." He shrugged. "We spend a lot of time on different plants and animals, both magical and non-magical, and I really like that. I also have a lot of history lessons, especially on modern history, and some background theory on Defence. And there's German, of course. I have a lot of that. But I think I have less classes than you do, in general – only between breakfast and elevenses, most days. Gran says that's plenty of time to teach me everything I needed."

On reflection, Harry probably shouldn't be surprised to hear he had to study more than his friends who were being raised by Gryffindors, but he still was. Of course, if what Alduin had said was true and one on one lessons were more efficient than normal ones, Mrs. Longbottom was likely right and Neville would manage to learn all he needed in two or three hours per day.

"How about you?" He asked Ron. "How many classes do your parents make you take?"

"It really depends," Ron answered. "Some days four, some days none. Mum also teaches me together with Ginny, so that complicates it. And like Neville said, it's mostly practical stuff." Then he groaned. "Why are we talking about school?"

"Well, I wanted to tell you about Macbeth."

"Can't we go flying instead?"

Harry looked out of the window. The rain had ceased, so it was not an impossibility, and he had been promising Neville to let him try his Nimbus for a long time now. "Okay," he decided, "let's go."

"I don't know," Neville muttered. "I'm really not sure about this."

"Don't chicken out," Ron said as they ran down the stairs. "Flying on a really good broom is bound to be great."

Harry remembered his solemn promise to Alduin to let him know when his plan to put Neville on his broom was finally put into motion, so in spite of Ron's protests that they'd be fine, he went in search of him.

He was, unsurprisingly enough, in his study, and accompanied Harry outside willingly enough. Once there, even Ron had to admit it had been a good idea, since Neville almost lost control of the broom at the first try. But after some couching, he was not completely hopeless, and they spent a very pleasant afternoon outside, Macbeth quite forgotten.

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Harry asked about the differing lesson times at dinner, and saw Alduin and Miss Burke exchange telling looks. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, they're stupid Gryffindors and all that, but I just want to know if they really will manage to learn everything you need to learn in sixth year before going to Hogwarts."

Alduin sighed. "There are actually no exact requirements for what the pre-Hogwarts children need to know, except reading, writing and basic maths. And even that is not really tested. If a child turns up at Hogwarts without these skills, the parents will be reported to the Ministry and prosecuted for neglect, and the child will be assigned a tutor, but no one checks beforehand. And any knowledge beyond this is strictly optional, unfortunately."

"The official line of argument for this," Miss Burke added, "is that families should have the freedom to decide what to focus on with their children. Which would be fair enough if there was some kind of check to make sure they were focusing on _something_ , beyond basic literacy."

"It is not usually a problem with the Noble Families," Alduin explained, "because it's a matter of prestige for the children to be well educated, even though, as you could see, different families differ in what are the prestigious spheres in which to educate children. Half-Blooded children are fine too, because the Muggle or Muggle-Born parent ensures they have proper education. But with the newer pureblood families...some cases are truly lamentable."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "But if wizards are not required to follow the Muggle curriculum..why are we working with Muggle textbooks, then?"

Alduin shrugged. "Because that's what you are used to, and there is a conception to these books. Given that you were already immersed in this system of education, I judged it best to continue."

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to his stew while Alduin and Miss Burke discussed the last meeting of her bookish friends. The talk about medieval history reminded him of a question he had wanted to ask weeks ago, but forgot about. He waited for a pause in the adults' conversation, then said: "Abdulaziz told me a lot about their family history – well, the history they share with the Shacklebolts. I wanted to ask, how come we never learned about these people in Muggle school? I mean, they must have had a big impact..."

"They did, but it was not about ending English slavery with a big bang. It took a lot of slow and painstaking work, convincing people. The Shacklebolts worked tightly with the Irish church in this. Some of their names will be mentioned in Muggle historical sources, but not all."

"And what did the Shacklebolts do after slavery ended in Britain? I mean, there weren't any Aurors yet, were they."

Alduin blinked. "Harry, did you think the only thing the Shacklebolts ever did was fight against slavery, or be Aurors?"

Harry blushed. "Well, you said..."

"That it was a family tradition. And so it is. That merely means that there is a younger son in the family more often than is usual nowadays, and that they very often work as Aurors. The Shacklebolts are, first and foremost, a Noble and Most Ancient family, with all of the duties it entails, Wizengamot and other things. The heads of the family are primarily that, even though as I have said, they often have interests beyond it, interests that often tie to some form of fighting for freedom. But there has been any number of Shacklebolts who were explorers, or scientists, or Quidditch players, or any other thing you can come up with. In the Middle Ages, in the period you asked about, what they did was contribute crucially to the building of a wizarding society."

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, feeling exceedingly stupid for asking such a question now.

"Harry, I've told you a thousand times: never be ashamed of asking a question – in private, that is. I must have gone badly about explaining it if you came away with such an idea. It's good of you to ask, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, still looking at the table, and then muttered: "I did have a couple more questions."

"Go on, then."

"Well, you've already explained why the Shacklebolts don't count as one of the most important families, or the ones with the biggest political influence...but why don't the Shafiqs? They must be one of the oldest families as well, if they came as the same time the Shacklebolts did..."

Miss Burke chuckled. "Who did Alduin tell you were the most important families?"

"Well, he divided it by houses," Harry replied, "but from Ravenclaw, he said yours and his."

Miss Burke's chuckle changed into a full-blown laugh. "I suppose a bit of self-promotion never hurts," she said, "but the Shafiqs would definitely be contenders for that title, as would the Ollivanders."

"Well, I was trying to cut it down to two for each House," Alduin said in his defence, sounding a little irritated.

Miss Burke continued to smile. "Ravenclaw is probably the hardest house to establish this with," she said. "We are probably the ones who have the most political influence at the moment, but at the same time...people would still give precedence to all the other three named, when it came to it. But the Traverses as well as the Shafiqs were handicapped by the war, and the Ollivanders are handicapped by their lack of enthusiasm for political games, at least compared to the other Houses. That's something they have in common with the Shacklebolts. Before the war, the question you asked would have a simple answer: the Shafiqs and the Traverses. Nowadays, it's more blurred. Alduin, I suspect, was trying to diminish the influence of their ancient rivals."

She said it with a smile, but Alduin still frowned. "You'll give him twisted ideas," he muttered, and to Harry, added: "The Shafiqs are more our ancient allies, even though I won't deny there's been some friendly competition about the position of the leading Ravenclaw house."

Miss Burke smirked. "You mean like when your ancestor in the seventeenth century poisoned the head of the House of Shafiq?"

Alduin groaned. "You said you have other questions?" He told Harry pointedly.

Harry, a little thrown by this casual mention of murder, took a while to rally. "Yes," he said at length. "I mean, the Shafiqs come from North Africa and you can see they do, but Mrs. Abdullah is clearly of English origin, and yet Gamila and Abdulaziz don't look any less...well, North African. How is that possible?"

Alduin smiled, appearing relived at this question. "All Ancient families," he said, "have a charm placed on their family line, a charm that safeguards some of their trademark appearance. So the Weasleys have red hair, the Potters have the messy black thing you do, and the Shafiqs look Middle-Eastern – and the Shacklebolts sub-saharan. It's traditional."

Harry chewed on this new piece of information. "So the children never look like their mothers? Don't the women mind?"

"But they do look like their mothers. The charm never takes care of all aspects of your looks. It differs family from family, but bone structure, height, stature, eye colour, the shape of your nose...all of these things are allowed to take their natural course. And in some families, too, this charm only applies to sons, so daughters can take after their mothers as much as they want. Many mothers make sure they do – there are spells and potions for that as well, you know."

Harry looked at Miss Burke and opened his mouth, but then he closed it again and blushed. She laughed. "We will see, Harry," she said, "we will see."


	21. Sharp Words of the Old Lady

AN: Merry Christmas – or other holiday of your choice – and happy new year.

This chapter is rather unseasonal for the northern hemisphere, but then again, given the weather, we could just as well be giving garden parties now...

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Harry remembered Macbeth again when he met with Draco in the gardens of Malfoy Manor during their garden party. He was surprised to see it was a relatively small one – not as much as the one at the Shacklebolts, but still, markedly more so than the one at the Burkes, Crouches or Shafiqs. It was not a gathering he would have called small only months ago, but he knew better now.

He also knew better than to comment on this to Draco, and instead, let himself be introduced to those he didn't know, but had known would meet here, thanks to the youngest Malfoy. The Bulstrodes, Gregory Goyle, and, most importantly, Theodore Nott, who, Harry had been told, was 'really quite decent and it was a pity he hardly ever went anywhere'. But apparently, an invitation to a Malfoy garden party was simply irresistible.

Harry really couldn't tell anything about Theodore, because the boy was very quiet. It didn't take long until he was almost alone with Draco and him, however. The younger children wandered away first, then the girls got into a fierce argument about something in whispers and retreated to avoid being overheard. Gregory and Vincent stayed, but since they talked almost as little as Theodore, it didn't make much difference. That was when Harry remembered Macbeth, and decided to try the topic in this company.

"It's cool, isn't it?" Draco said immediately. "Both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, I mean. And the witches, too – very Slytherin, I always thought them. I bet they really worked for Malcolm, and it was just their way of helping him get to the throne. I can't wait to see it in the theatre!"

"The witches might have been Slytherin, but Malcolm was definitely Gryffindor!"

"Not if he employed the witches!"

"I think," Theodore spoke probably for the first time since telling Harry it was nice to meet him, "that Macbeth was stupid to let himself be influenced by the prophecy. If he had just ignored them, everything would have been fine."

"Well, it's usually like that in books, isn't it? I mean, look at Oedipus!" Draco pointed out.

"True."

"I haven't read Oedipus yet," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, you should," Theodore said immediately. "Even though I like Antigone even better."

Harry could not help feeling that this was a very different reaction from the one he got from Ron and Neville. And the boys weren't even Ravenclaws! "How many Greek tragedies have you read?" He asked.

Theodore seemed to think about it for a moment. "About ten, I think?"

"Theo is headed to Ravenclaw," Draco commented snidely.

"I think not," the boy replied. "I definitely plan to ask for Slytherin. The fact that I can read doesn't mean it's the only thing I care about."

"What are the others, then?" Draco asked, grinning.

"Oh, leave him be," Harry muttered. "How many did _you_ read?"

"A few. Certainly not ten! But let's go back to Shakespeare. Have you read anything else but Macbeth?"

Harry, who strongly suspected Draco never read any other Greek tragedy than Oedipus and was too embarrassed to admit it, let him get away with the change of topic and answered: "Only Much Ado About Nothing, but I didn't like _that_ so much. And I'm starting Hamlet now."

"Much Ado is stupid," Theo said immediately. "Read Midsummer Night's Dream, that's much better."

"The Dream is great," Draco agreed, "but how do you like Hamlet? I thought it was a bit boring – he doesn't do anything, and then when he finally does, he mucks it all up."

"Hey!" Harry objected. "Don't spoil the ending for me!"

"He doesn't know what he's talking about anyway," Theo said. "Hamlet is great. It's my favorite Shakespeare."

"And how many of _those_ have you read?" Harry asked, fearing the answer a little.

"Not that many, about ten as well. But I'm on it."

"Are you reading one now?" Harry wasn't too sure what other Shakesperean plays there were, beyond those they had already mentioned.

"No," Theo replied, "but I did Richard the Third yesterday."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean, did – you read the whole play in one day?"

"Well, yeah. They're really short."

Harry and Draco exchanged a look. "Let's talk about something else," Draco muttered, "or we'll really turn into Ravenclaws. Did you hear about Pansy and Zacharias' last argument? The one before today, I mean."

"No," Harry replied. "Do we want to?" He had learned already that such argument were usually vicious and pulled no punches, metaphorically speaking.

"Absolutely, because she got so angry that she used accidental magic on him!"

"Wow." Harry was impressed. "What did she do?"

"She silenced him," Draco replied, chuckling. "He just stood there gaping at her. And it was at her birthday party, too, so no one really chastised her too much, because he _had_ been annoying her."

"He always does," Theo said.

"Well, to be fair, _she_ annoys _him_ just as much," Harry felt compelled to add.

"Yeah, but who wants to be fair? It's Smith," Draco pointed out, and they all laughed.

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It was during dinner after the party that Alduin turned to Harry and said: "You seem to have got really friendly with Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiled a little embarrassedly and shrugged. "He is certainly full of himself, I know what you meant, though he isn't as bad as Zacharias Smith, but, well, he's really, I don't know, smart? I mean, I can talk to him about things."

Alduin laughed. "Now if Mrs. Longbottom heard you, she would certainly say that that I was making a Ravenclaw out of you."

"But it's true! Him and Theodore Nott both."

"You should try talking to Daphne Greengrass, too, if I am to limit myself to your future school mates."

Harry grimaced. "Daphne, well..."

"Don't you dare saying that she is a girl, Harry," Miss Burke laughed.

"Well, she is!"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you cannot talk to her?"

"No, though it is a little weird. She also doesn't like Abdulaziz."

Alduin grinned. "The feud Abdulaziz has with her sister, and consequently Daphne has with him, is not your concern, Harry. They will sort it out between themselves. You don't need to have a tête-à-tête with her, do you? But I think that talking with her and Theo together with Draco could be very interesting."

Harry sat in thought for a moment, and then he asked: "Why does it matter to you?"

Miss Burke laughed again. "He got you here!" She said.

"Yes," he admitted sheepishly. Then he explained: "You see, Socrates Greengrass, son of the current head of the family, was my father's good friend. I didn't ask the Greengrasses for dinner, because I've never been too close with Socrates' first son, and his second son and the girls' father, Hesiod, was in Slytherin even though his father was a Ravenclaw, and he married a Slytherin wife, and I didn't want to send too many tongues waggling, since everyone knows the dinners I give are mainly to introduce you to people. But we are on good terms, nonetheless, and he complained to me that Daphne doesn't really have many good friends in her age group. I mean, you have met a good portion of the girls already, haven't you? Who do you think she should talk to?"

Harry had to concede it was true. The idea of Daphne spending too much time with Hannah or Millicent was absurd, and Pansy could be really unpleasant when she wanted. He promised to at least try.

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They went for dinner at the Burkes later in the week, and Alduin thought that at the very least, Alexandra's mother should be happy with the development. She proved herself to be very much so when she started to chat to Harry about Draco almost as soon as they came. Alduin resisted the urge to monitor the conversation, and instead turned to Mrs. Daniel Burke. The old lady was sitting in her usual armchair, blinking lazily at the family gathering.

"Have you heard from Mrs. Bagshot recently?" He asked.

"Oh yes, she wrote the most rambling letter to me just a few days ago. It is really much easier to speak to her in person – it's a pity she no longer feels equal to Flooing, and that I don't either."

"How is she, apart from that?"

"Old and ill, but who of our generation isn't? At least the weather's better now, so she feels better as well. She complained about people neglecting her."

Alduin sighed. "I really should come to visit..."

"Yes, you should," the lady said directly.

"Alexandra has been keeping up a steady flow of conversation over letters, I believe. They found a number of common interests."

Mrs. Daniel frowned at him. "Yes, she told me about it. Their detailed discussions about medieval Scotland are all well and good, but you aren't married yet. You cannot pretend that she takes care of the letters for your family. Besides, Bathilda is your personal friend – or was your father's, anyway. She deserves better. You spend all of your time pushing Harry Potter together with Clarissa's thrice-damned great nephew, instead of paying attention to old ladies who are your friends and might die any day."

"I'm not sure what Alexandra's mother told you," Alduin replied, finding refuge from shame in anger, "but I certainly don't spend all of my time pushing Harry together with Draco. He spends most of his time with Neville Longbottom, and Ronald Weasley as well."

Mrs. Daniel's lip curled. "Not much better, is it? Exchanging Death Eaters for idiots..."

Alduin privately though that for all her scorn, Mrs. Daniel had some things in common with Mrs. Longbottom.

"Don't think I'm stupid just because I'm old," the lady continued. "I've heard rumours about the youngest Longbottom, and everyone knows about the Weasleys. You should pick better company for the Boy Who Lived."

"Well, there are no Ravenclaws his age," Alduin pointed out. "And I _have_ introduced him to Abduaziz Shafiq and Edmund Burke."

"Hmpf. Better than nothing, I suppose. If all of my children and grandchildren and so on didn't insist of reproducing so late, Daniel and Placidia could have been old enough to be friends with him."

Alduin had no idea what to answer to that, and was saved by Mr. Burke coming to fuss over his mother. Mrs. Daniel was formidable, but should only be taken in small doses.


	22. Hagrid's Tale

AN: Happy new year, everyone! The plot starts to move a liiittle in this one again.

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Neville and Mrs. Longbottom came for dinner to Travers Manor only a day after another garden party, this one at the Ollivanders, and Harry didn't hesitate in telling his friend all about it as soon as the guests entered the drawing room. They boy was looking more and more morose, however, and finally he sighed and said: "I kind of wish I could go sometimes, too."

"Why doesn't your grandmother take you, then?" Harry asked. He had been curious about this for a long time, but always felt it awkward to ask. Now he felt his opportunity.

Neville, however, muttered something incomprehensible and blushed.

Harry was considerate enough to change the topic, but he didn't forget about it and at dinner, only waited for a lull in the conversation before asking: "Mrs. Longbottom, why doesn't Neville ever come with you to garden parties?"

Neville looked like he wanted to sink in the ground, but Harry's eyes didn't leave his grandmother.

"He wouldn't know how to act," she replied. "He's too young."

Harry took a breath to argue, but caught his cousins warning glance and reluctantly changed tack. "But he will come if there's ever going to be one at Travers Manor, won't he? I'd be really sad if he didn't!"

Mrs. Longbottom seemed to hesitate. "I suppose," she said. "Especially if it was a smaller gathering."

Harry beamed at her. He very much doubted any garden party his cousin would throw after his wedding would be a smaller gathering, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

He felt like he won a small victory, but after the guests left, Alduin approached him with a frown. "Harry," he said, "you should be more considerate of your friend's feelings."

"What do you mean? I did it for him!"

"Did you even asked Neville if he wanted you to do this for him?"

"He told me he wished he could go!"

"Yes, but it doesn't necessarily follow he wished you to confront his grandmother about it."

Harry kept frowning, and even though he didn't say anything, it was clear he disagreed.

"You managed the situation quite well," Alduin conceded after a moment, "but next time, find Mrs. Longbottom at a party or in the drawing room and speak to her privately, where Neville cannot hear, okay?"

"Okay," Harry conceded.

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After months of terse silence, Dumbledore contacted Alduin in mid-May to give him Harry's Gringotts key, and to make a demand. "You may be Harry's closest adult living relative," he said, "but his parents had friends, friends to whom they had been closer than to you, and Harry should meet them as well. I wish for him to be introduced to Hagrid."

Alduin raised an eyebrow. This whole visit was very untoward. Dumbledore had Flooed to Travers Manor without much prior warning and demanded to speak with him, and now he has this kind of odd request? "Why Hagrid?" He asked. "You are right that I wasn't particularly close with James and Lily, but, nevertheless, I am aware that there are many who they had been closer to than Hagrid." Of course, most of them were dead, imprisoned or in hospital, but still.

"It was Hagrid who saved Harry from the ruin of his home and brought him to the Dursleys, and he much wishes to meet him now. I had planned to give him the opportunity when the time came to deliver Harry's Hogwarts letter, but given your...interference, it will have to be arranged in a different matter."

Alduin was still convinced there was something else behind this strange request, but it was better not to antagonize Dumbledore more than strictly necessary. "Very well," he said. "Tell him he can come for tea today, or during the weekend."

"Come here?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

"Where else?"

"I'd have thought you'd prefer for him not to visit your ancestral home."

Alduin narrowed his eyes. "Dumbledore, if you're trying to imply speciesism on my part, I would thank you to take such suggestions elsewhere. I'll be glad to welcome Hagrid here. You, on the other hand, I do not remember asking."

"No need to get so prickly, my boy! I simply thought your grandmother wouldn't have appreciated it. Better make sure his portrait is not present when Hagrid comes!"

"It was pleasant talking to you, Dumbledore," Alduin replied and left the room, waiting just behind the door until he heard the sound of Floo, and then checking of Dumbledore had really left.

It was stupid to get so riled up, of course. It was without a doubt intentional provocation on Dumbledore's part, likely aimed at distracting him from thinking about the reasons for this little idea. But even after he set the distraction aside, he couldn't figure it out.

Hagrid sent a quick Floo confirmation that he would make an appearance in the afternoon, and so Alduin used lunch as an opportunity to prepare Harry. "Hagrid is...big." He said. "About twice as tall as a regular man, and he can look a little wild, but he is a very good man, if nto oen fo the brightest. He works at Hogwarts, as Keeper of Keys and Grounds."

"Is he your friend?" Harry asked, sounding very surprised.

Alduin grimaced. "Not exactly. He used to be friendly with your parents, however, and wished to meet you."

"With my mum or with my dad?" Harry asked immediately.

"With both of them." Alduin paused. "Mainly when they were adults already, and the...sillier things your father used to do became somewhat scarcer."

"Sillier things?" Harry asked incredulously. "You told me he used to attack Professor Snape without due provocation!"

Alduin sighed. Finding the right balance was hard sometimes. "You are right. Less good things, then, let's say."

Harry nodded, but stared a little morosely into his shepherd's pie.

Hagrid arrived on time, in a dreadful brown suit, and looked very awkward on the sofa in the afternoon parlour. "My cousin said you knew my parents?" Harry asked as soon as the introductions were over.

"That I did!" Hagrid replied immediately. "As good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! But yer bound to know all of this."

Harry, however, was frowning. "You say my father was as good a wizard as you ever knew," he said, "but my cousin told me he used to attack Professor Snape when they were together at school."

Alduin winced. Hagrid shifted in his seat, the sofa creaking ominously, and his eyes darted to the lord of the manor for the smallest moment. "Well," he said, "yeah, that's...that's true enough. They were always after each other, yer dad an' Professor Snape. Nasty, it sometimes got. Suppose he wasn't always in the right. But yer mum, now, nothing can be said against her, can it?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I didn't know her. I never heard anything bad, but then, my cousin says he didn't know her very well, and Professor Snape was her friend, so of course he wouldn't say bad things about her." Harry sounded a little anxious. "She was truly nice, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, the nicest there was, and always gave yer dad hell for the way he treated Professor Snape. Wouldn't go out with him until he stopped."

Harry looked relieved. "And if you knew my dad...did you know Sirius Black, too?" He asked then.

Hagrid's face immediately turned dark. "So I did – filthy, stinkin' turncoat that he was."

"Was my father influenced by him a lot?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well...in tormenting Professor Snape. I always though...it must have been Black's idea, must it not?"

"I never though about that," Hagrid replied. "I never knew who started it. But yer right, it musta bin Black. They tended to egg each other on...it musta bin him who started it." Hagrid's scowl deepened. "I met him," he said. "It was me what rescued you from yer parents' house after they was killed! Jus' got you outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across yer forehead… an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" He roared.

Harry flinched, and Alduin laid a calming hand on his forearm for a moment.

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James?" Hagrid continued. "It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him —' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said you was ter go ter yer aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get you there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. But what if I'd given you to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched you off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to em anymore…"

Alduin frowned. The last thing he needed was Harry being fed this kind of nonsensically demonized view of Death Eaters. Before he could say something, however, Harry asked: "But wait, why did Dumbledore give you orders to give me to my Ant and Uncle? Did he suspect Black?"

"Dunno, do I? Suppose so. Dumbledore knows a lot."

"But if he suspected Black, why didn't he told my dad?"

"Harry," Alduin interjected, "remember that Dumbledore knew who was the Secret Keeper. Once your parents were dead, it was clear that either Black betrayed them, or he had been caught and tortured. Of course the first possibility would have occurred to Dumbledore."

"Okay, so no Black," Harry conceded, "but why the Dursleys? Why not Neville's parents?"

"That is something you'll have to ask him yourself," Alduin replied.

Harry frowned into his tea.

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Ron was visiting again, and as they walked in the gardens, Harry was busy telling him and Neville about the trip to London he'd made with Alduin only two days ago. "We saw the National Gallery," he said, "and then we went through Whitehall – that's where the Muggle government is – and my cousin told me all about how they communicate with our Ministry, and then we saw the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey and he took me to the London Eye – it's a big wheel that gives you this awesome view of London. We had lunch out, too, and everything. It was awesome."

"Yeah, must have been," Ron said, and he sounded bitter and irritated.

Harry sighed. He studiously avoided mentioning the opulent garden parties he went to or the way Alduin shopped before Ron, but he had thought this wouldn't irritate him so much. It was just a trip to town! He'd just wanted to tell his friends about it!

"It must be nice to have so much money to spare," Ron continued. "You visit museums and galleries and eat out, and meanwhile, I won't even have a new wand for Hogwarts."

"Ron," Harry said, frustrated, "I'm sorry about that, but what can I do?"

"Nothing, that's just it, isn't it? It's just not fair! Why should you have it all – the money and the front pages of the Prophet and everything?"

Harry was too shocked to answer, but Neville said quietly: "Ron, you do realize Harry became famous after his parents died, right?"

"Of course you wouldn't understand," Ron replied, kicking a rock. "You're almost as rich as he is."

The visit ended soon after that, on a very awkward note.

"I wish," Harry muttered at dinner, "Ron had more money."

"So does he, I'm sure," Alduin replied.

"Yeah, he does. But, I mean, he's a real prat sometimes, and I really think mostly it's exactly when he realizes how much more money me or Neville have. I know you told me I shouldn't, but could I tell him how I lived when I was with the Dursleys? Maybe he would feel less sorry for himself then."

Alduin frowned. "I'd much rather you didn't. I have no faith in his discretion, and it would cause a huge scandal if the word got about."

Harry sighed. "And you wonder why I talk to Draco so much," he said. "He is the only one whose family is normal!"

Alduin was very glad Mrs. Longbottom was not here to hear this pronouncement, but he did see Harry's point. The Malfoys were very far from being the norm, but they were probably closer to it than either the Weasleys or that august lady.

Harry, understanding why it would be a scandal, did not insist on asking Draco to visit, but he spent a good part of every party with him – and sometimes with Daphne, too. Alduin considered the situation. He could control it now, but once Harry was at Hogwarts, he would be free to make his own decisions, and while Alduin wanted him to be friendly with the Slytherins – that feud was just too absurd for words – there was no need to make the Gryffindor side consider him a traitor. Neville was probably firmly established as Harry's best friend already – and a good thing, too, since he was the best of many bad choices – but as distasteful as it was, good relationship with the Weasleys was important for a Gryffindor family. Which meant...wheels started to turn in Alduin's head.


	23. Weasley Welcomes Wealth

It was the beginning of June when Ron burst out of the fireplace in the receiving room in Travers Manor, seeming almost giddy with excitement. Harry and Neville were already waiting for him – Ron usually came at least a little late – and now exchanged a look of surprise. Before any of them could say anything, however, Ron grinned at them. "Guess what?" He said.

"No idea," Harry replied.

"My dad got a new job!"

"Really?" Neville asked, even more surprised. "I thoughts your father liked his old one."

"Well, yeah, and he won't leave it either. He got a job in addition to in, in some institute for studying Muggles. He only needs to be there a few hours a week, he said, but it's really well-paid. Ginny listened at the door when they talked about it and she says they said it should be enough to get all of us new stuff for Hogwarts. Isn't that great?"

The boys both agreed it was. "Let's go out," Harry said then. "You can tell us all about it there. When did you find out?"

"Only yesterday, when Dad came home from work," Ron replied as they left the house. "And Ginny only told be how good it was just before I came here." He rolled his eyes. "She made me get her a broom from a shed before she told me. I don't know what she wants to do with it, it's not like she flies. But anyway, just think of the possibilities! Dad starts this month, so it'll only be three months' worth of pay before we go to Hogwarts and it'll still be enough money to get us all new school stuff. Imagine how much he'll have after a year in this job! We can all have new robes, and the house could be repaired, and everything."

"What exactly will your father be doing in his new job?" Neville asked.

"I dunno. Something about Muggles, like I said. Mum said that he might make use of some of the stuff he does in the garage, so I guess maybe some tinkering with Muggle objects? But I really have no clue."

"It was quite a good timing," Harry pointed out as they plopped down to the grass by the garden lake. "I mean, before you went to school and all."

"Yeah, thank Merlin for that. I mean, I guess Mum could have sent us all the new stuff by owl, but still, it'd have been awkward with the wand. I was to get Charlie's old one before this job came around. That'd have been terrible."

Neville shifted a little uncomfortably. "I don't know," he said. "I mean, Gran says I'm to use my Dad's old wand..."

Ron looked immediately embarrassed, and Harry sighed a little. It was still an improvement, he supposed. A few months ago, Neville wouldn't have spoken up. "So do you have any ideas what you'd like to do now, or like next summer, apart from, you know, the house being repaired?" He asked.

It turned out Ron did – in fact, he could discuss little else for the rest of the afternoon, but this time, Harry didn't really blame him. He'd have wanted to talk about big news like this as well. He did, in fact – when Neville and Ron both left, he went to Alduin to tell him all about it.

"...it's really well paid, so Ron's gonna have lots of new things!" He ended his excited narrative.

Mentally frowning about the crass way the boy discussed this with his ward, Alduin said neutrally: "Really?"

"Yeah! Ron's really excited, and I think it will make everything easier with him. It's some Muggle-wizard relationship research group, I think, so exactly in Mr. Weasley's line."

Indeed it was. It took some effort to think of a job offer that would be too tempting for Arthur Weasley to refuse, would not take him from the Ministry, because he would never leave it, and would convincingly pay enough money. In the end he had convinced Anil Patil to officially found the institute – it was not so unlikely that a rich half-blood would want to develop something that would do the job better than the Ministry. And, since he had to fund it, Alduin fully intended to make it do some real job – or at least all the other employees apart from Weasley, since he was notoriously incapable.

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Harry liked going to the Shafiqs. He liked Abdulaziz, his parents were very kind, and the house was spacious and beautiful. It looked different from the other mansions he had visited, too – it had a large central courtyard, and it had only two floors, opting to be wide rather than high. That was especially pleasant now when the summer was starting, and they ate dinner with the door to the central courtyard open, and then, instead of going to a drawing room, the entire family moved to sit there.

"I love this," Harry couldn't help saying when he settled down. "It's so nice."

Mr. Shafiq laughed. "It's not so very comfortable in winter," he said, "but well, what can I do when my great-great-grandfather got it into his head we have to go back to our roots and remade the entire house into what he deemed was an oriental style..."

"You mean it didn't originally look like this?"

"Oh no. Ibn Ismail was a sensible man, and when he decided to settle in Britain, he built a house fit for living in Britain, made to withstand rain and snow and cold. The later expansions and improvements followed in this spirit. But then in mid-nineteenth century, when this glorious kingdom was doing all it could to colonize the entire world, my esteemed ancestor – in a fit of desire to make up for his guilt of living in a country that was doing that, I gathered – decided that living in a British house was disloyal and had it remade in such a way that it requires large amounts of magic to make it easily habitable most of the year."

"My father likes to complain," Mr. Muhammad said with a smile. "In reality, he enjoys the warm summer evenings out here as much as you do, Mr. Potter."

"I never denied it," Mr. Shafiq replied. "It's the winters that bothers me."

"Yet you should see him if someone tried to as much as suggest he remakes the house," Mr. Muhammad stage-whispered.

"I wouldn't want it changed either," Abdulaziz piped in. "I like it this way."

"We can build snowmen in the courtyard, too – not many people can do that!" Gamila added.

"And do you?" Harry asked curiously.

"All the time," Abdulaziz admitted, laughing.

"You mean all the time when there's actually enough snow, which isn't all that often," his father pointed out with a smile. "Wrong part of the country for that."

"The last thing I need," Mr. Shafiq muttered, "is having a house like this is Scotland."

"Where are we, actually?" Harry asked. They always flooed to their visits, and so he no clue about geography.

"Oxfordshire," Mr. Muhammad replied. "Not too far from that town, in fact."

Harry giggled. "I should have known there'd be a Ravenclaw family in Oxfordshire," he said. "Is there one in Cambridgeshire as well?"

"Oh yes," Mr. Abdullah replied with a smile. "The Davies live there."

Harry giggled again.

"To divert your attention from our house for a moment," Mrs. Muhammad said after a short pause, "Alexandra, dear, have you seen the new excavations from Tintagel?"

"I haven't had time for more than a cursory perusal," Miss Burke replied, "but they seem most fascinating."

"There was this one runic inscriptions that I found particularly intriguing..."

Mrs. Abdullah gave a quiet sigh. "Any interesting adventures lately?" She asked Harry, adding in an undertone: "I just can't do history..."

"Really? I remember hearing Mrs. Bagshot mention you, so I thought you knew her through history..."

The smile that appeared on Mrs. Abdullah's face appeared a little forced to Harry. "Oh no," she said. "it was through the historical interests of my great-grandfather."

Harry would have liked to smack himself with something heavy. He had been warned by Alduin never to ask Mrs. Abdullah about her blood family. As far as he knew, it was only her brother and father who had been Death Eaters and killed by Aurors, but what did he know? Perhaps there had been some problem with her great-grandfather as well.

He really wanted to change the topic now, but had no idea how. Mrs. Abdullah looked at him for a moment, then smiled a small smile. _Don't worry about it_ , it seemed to say. "But you're right," she said aloud. " _She_ can make history interesting even to me. She's a great teacher. Have you ever heard her tell something? It's an experience. A pity, too, that she never had the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts. Dumbledore keeps that thrice-damned Binns around...well, it's too late for her now, at any rate."

"Is she very ill?" Harry asked, a little alarmed by this.

"Incurably, at any rate. You cannot heal age." Mrs. Abdullah sighed. "But we've picked a glum topic. Let's see what the others are talking about. Hopefully, they've moved behind Runes."

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Harry was curious when they were asked for tea at the Burkes – it had never happened before, it had always been dinners. They weren't exactly his favourite thing either – the Burke children were cute, but too small to be any real fun, and while Harry really liked Mrs. Theodore, the rest of Miss Burke's family, especially her parents, made him uneasy.

However, his worries about this dissipated the moment he saw that someone else had been asked for tea as well – Draco, and his mother.

Harry had seen Mrs. Malfoy before, of course, but it had only been in passing and from a distance, and they had never been introduced. "Mr. Potter," she said now, as she shook his hand. "How nice to meet you. Draco has, of course, told me much about you. I take it you're quite a fan of Shakespeare?"

Harry blushed a little. "I don't know about that," he said. "I've read less than Draco, certainly. But I like it. Draco recommended Midsummer Night's Dream, so I read it and I liked it a lot."

"Was it your favourite?"

"Yes, I think so – that, and Macbeth."

"So you agree with me that Hamlet is boring?" Draco asked impatiently.

"Kinda," Harry admitted, "but don't tell Theodore."

Draco laughed. "Hamlet is Theo's favourite," he explained.

Mrs. Malfoy smiled softly. "That does not surprise me," she said.

Harry and Draco took themselves to the gardens as soon as they finished their tea. "You have done a wonderful job," Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy say after they left the room, but they were too far by the time whoever it had been addressed to replied to hear what they said.

"Have you seen the first match of the season?" Draco asked Harry on their way out.

"Um, no…?" Harry said reluctantly.

"I thought so, and so I brought the displayer with the recording with me. You've got to see it. The Tornadoes played the Canons, and crushed them completely!"

Harry laughed. "Ron's gonna be really upset, then," he said.

Draco sneered. "Weasley?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's his favourite team."

Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind. Taking his expression into account, Harry decided not to pry. "Isn't the game boring, if the Canons were crushed so completely?" He asked instead.

"No, it's fun. They grow more and more flustered, and then start dropping balls and things like that. It's ridiculous."

Harry felt rather sorry for the poor players, even without seeing them. "Are the Magpies going to be playing any time soon?" He asked. If they payed the Tornadoes, well, that would be more interesting.

Draco shrugged. "I don't remember, but check the sports section of the Prophet, it prints matches times in the back. I only know when the Tornadoes play."

They found one of the benches by the side of the house and sat down, and Draco took out the displayer. "The International Quidditch Tournament will start soon enough, too," he said. "Are you planning to go?"

"I'd like to," Harry said. "I'll try to convince my cousin to take me, but I don't know – I mean, he doesn't really care about Quidditch."

"You could go with us," Draco replied. "I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind."

Harry, well aware that his cousin would most certainly not allow that, for political reasons, tried to murmur something noncommittal. Draco's enthusiasm immediately subsided. "Let's just watch," he said curtly.


	24. Mr Jonathan's Big Mistake

It took only two weeks. At the garden party the Yaxleys threw, shortly before the wedding, Lucius Malfoy stood next to Alduin for a moment and then asked: "Do you not believe that a wizard who cannot take care of his own family and situation in life should be left in his disgrace?"

"Certainly," Alduin replied, "at least as long as it is his own doing."

"Which it was."

"Which it was," Alduin conceded, because Weasley, a member of the sacred twenty-eight and one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, a man who had had every privilege except money from birth – and really, before he had seven children, it hadn't been particularly bad with the money either – could hardly be said to be ruined by circumstances, "but you have to take my own selfishness into account too. If I have to see them, I would much rather not have to wonder if their clothes is going to fall apart directly in my drawing room. And, also, their youngest son is likely to sleep in one dormitory with Harry and so spend quite some time with him. If I can improve that influence in any way, I will."

Lucius frowned. "Yes, I do not envy you your situation." He paused. "I would have liked to help fund the Institute, if only to make sure it stays...objective, but its true purpose stays my hand."

Alduin turned his eyes to Lucius. They were a shade darker, but could be exactly as cold as the other man's when he wanted, and they were at the moment. "Do you doubt my objectivity, Lucius?" He asked.

The older man smiled sarcastically. "Yours? No. Some of your employees? Well..."

"That is why I'm there to oversee it and fire any who misbehave."

"Any?"

"Obviously I am not going to fire the person for whose benefit it was all founded, but then I do not really expect him to actually do anything, so he can hardly produce misleading results. All the rest..." He gave Lucius another long look, "...I will check very carefully."

Lucius simply nodded, taking note, and turned to leave. But then he turned back and, with another ironic smile, said: "I am very glad you are back in the world, Alduin. You're a breath of fresh air."

Alduin gave him a mirroring smile. "The game was getting too easy, wasn't it?"

"Too boring."

Lucius left, and Alduin tried to fight the feeling that someone was walking over his grave. He could not very well forget that the last time his family played the game with Lucius, four of its members ended up dead.

It was during the war, he told himself firmly. Things could be done that cannot be done now. But then, war would come again, sooner or later… He shook himself. It was pointless to worry, and he would not allow Lucius to frighten him into inaction. What he was doing at the moment was necessary, but once he had a little time...it would probably be a good idea to remember that the situation with Lucius needed some attention, and better sooner than later.

For now, however, he put it out of his mind and looked around. Abdullah was standing nearby, but he was deep in conversation with his sisters, and so Alduin left them to it and headed to the Shacklebolts, whom he spotted not far behind.

"So...the wedding approaches," Nathan commented after their exchanged greetings. "Are you feeling all jittery?"

Alduin snorted. "Oh yes, so nervous – will she say yes?"

They all laughed. "No, but seriously," Kingsley said then, "I suppose everything is arranged already?"

Alduin nodded. "It wasn't really very demanding for me," he said. "I mean, we're using the heirloom rings and that was, effectively, the only part that was on me."

"Well, Alexandra does have the advantage of having her entire family to help with planning," Nathan commented cynically.

Alduin only nodded. "And what about you?" He asked. "Maurice and Kiara are coming back from school in a few days, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes," Susan replied. "I'm dreading it a little – Maurice is old enough to be taken with us to formal dinners now, but I'm not wholly convinced he is ready."

Kingsley laughed and shook his head. "He'll be fine, Susan," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you would think so. But I just don't see him doing well at the Crouches and the Smiths."

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "And do you have any visits scheduled there in the near future?"

"No," she admitted.

"Alduin has a point," Kingsley nodded. "It's not like you have to take him there. No one has too much time for formal dinners during the summer anyway, we're all too swamped by garden parties for the Hogwarts kids."

Nathan groaned. "Don't remind me," he said. "We will have to throw one at the very least, and I swear it feels like the number of guests doubles during the school break."

Alduin chuckled. "You should try to hide your misanthropy a little better."

"He'll get a relief in September, at least," Kingsley noted. "An absurd number of children are starting Hogwarts this year. The parties will thin down after that."

Nathan smiled at this. "And that brings us to Alduin yet again," he noted. "Do you feel ready to send Mr. Potter to Hogwarts?"

"Do I have a choice?" Alduin asked jokingly. "No, I believe he will do well enough. You cannot entirely catch up on eleven years of education in a couple of months, but it should work reasonably well." As long, he added mentally, as nothing goes wrong.

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Harry tried not to be irritated by the idea of visiting the Crouches. Out of all the families that were asked to Travers Manor, these were the visits he enjoyed the least. Mrs. Jonathan was nice, but the others were simply too strange. It didn't seem like Alduin was as friendly with the rest of them as with the Shafiqs, Shacklebolts or Ollivanders either, so it was a bit of a mystery to Harry why they were even asked.

Now he entered the evening parlour of their house with Alduin and Miss Burke, and he felt his cousin tense beside him. He looked up to him, and saw his eyes align on a young woman had had seen at a few garden parties before, but whose name he didn't know.

Alduin's face seemed to turn into stone, while hers went pale and her eyes widened. They quickly looked away from each other, and Alduin strode directly to Mr. Jonathan, while Miss Burke walked towards the unknown lady with a smile on her face.

Harry was left alone at the door for a beat. He'd have liked to escape to Edmund, but the boy was talking to his grandparents at the moment, so he hesitated and was rescued by Mrs. Jonathan.

"Mr. Potter!" She said cheerfully, though her smile seemed a little forced to Harry. "Good to see you. How have you been?"

Given that they'd only seen each other a week ago when the Crouches visited Travers Manor, Harry was unsure what to say. "Well, thank you," he answered, and his eyes drifted to the unknown lady again.

"Of course," Mrs. Jonathan muttered, "you haven't been introduced." And with another forced smile, she led Harry to where Miss Burke was attempting a conversation that seemed more like a monologue.

"Eliza," she said, "allow me to introduce Harry Potter to you. Mr. Potter, this is Mrs. Aurelius Prince, my sister-in-law."

"Oh!" Harry said, and blushed. "I mean, nice to meet you," he muttered to Mrs. Aurelius.

"And you," the lady replied so quietly it was almost inaudible.

There was a short silence, in which suddenly, Alduin's slightly raised voice was heard: "I don't-" but then he checked himself, and no more of his conversation with Mr. Jonathan could be heard.

Miss Burke asked Mrs. Jonathan a question about some charm or another, and they were soon deep in conversation, Mrs. Aurelius remaining quiet.

Harry looked desperately around, and realizing that Edmund was apparently finally free, headed in his direction. He'd have never thought he'd see conversation with that particular boy as a relief, but here it was.

"Are you looking forward tot he wedding?" Edmund asked him seriously.

"I suppose – I mean, I don't really have much experience with weddings, so I don't know what to expect."

"Oh, right – this will be your first wizarding wedding, won't it?"

Harry nodded, feeling rather uncomfortable.

"Did your cousin explain everything?"

Alduin did explain quite a lot, in fact, but Harry sensed his opportunity and said: "Yes, but I'm not sure I've really remembered it...could you maybe help with that?"

Edmund nodded eagerly, and the conversation was secured till they were called to eat.

The tense atmosphere lasted through dinner. Miss Burke and Mrs. Jonathan were the only ones attempting to keep the conversation going, with occasional comments from Mr. and Mrs. Crouch. Alduin continued stony-faced, in a way Harry had never seen him before.

Towards the dessert, Miss Burke and Mrs. Jonathan were both appearing a little tired of the burden laid on them. Harry wanted to help them out, so he turned to Mr. Crouch and said: "I've heard from Mr. Jonathan that your brother works at the Ministry, in International Cooperation. It sounded very interesting to me. Do you know what they're working on now?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to frown a little. "I try not to talk to Bartemius about his work too much," he said.

"Right, no need to encourage him," Mrs. Jonathan muttered by Harry's side. Mr. Crouch didn't hear her, and continued: "Much of it is confidential in any case, so he couldn't tell me, or I couldn't tell you."

"Do they have spies under that department?" Harry asked excitedly.

Mr. Crouch seemed taken aback at the question. "Not spies as such," his wife replied, "but there are people at foreign embassies who report to the Ministry with certain valuable information, yes, and this kind of information passes through my brother-in-law's department."

Harry found the topic fascinating and wanted to ask more, but seeing the repressive frown on Mr. Crouch's face at even the little his wife had revealed, he refrained and ceded the floor back to the two ladies.

Once they were back at the Manor, however, he couldn't help but ask. "Do wizards actually have spies?" He demanded the moment they stepped out of the Floo.

"Of course we do," Alduin replied tiredly, "but they're under Law Enforcement, not under International Cooperation. Kingsley would be a better person to ask about that."

"And could he actually tell me? I mean, if it's all so secret..."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Crouch was just being overly dramatic," he said. "Of course the particular missions and discoveries are classified, but there's no reason Kingsley couldn't tell you roughly how it works. No that this is his particular job, but he does know something about it."

Harry nodded, then hesitated. He also wanted to know what was the problem with this visit, but didn't know if he should ask. Especially as Alduin was clearly out of sorts, as evidenced by him calling Mr. Crouch just Crouch in Harry's presence. But still, he always said Harry should ask whenever he had a question, so…

"Why was everyone so tense at dinner?"

Alduin sighed, looking ever more tired at the question. "You should always ask," he said, "but it doesn't follow I'll always answer. This was a personal matter. Jonathan Crouch did something he knew perfectly well I wouldn't wish him to do. I felt it needed to be dealt with directly."

Harry bit his lip. "Did it have anything to do with Mrs. Aurelius Prince?" He asked then.

Alduin gave him a sharp look. "You're too observant for your own good," he said. "Yes. Jonathan likes to interfere in his sister's life. He chose an unfortunate way to do it this time. But don't worry about it, Harry, no other social calls we make should be this tense."

Harry smirked. "Not even if we go to the Smiths one day?"

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AN: I keep forgetting to link this, but I made a list of OCs for easier orientation, given the plethora of them I have in this story. I'll try to update it with any new ones that appear. barbarakaterina tumblr com /post/136747957179


	25. The Wedding

The wedding was the grandest thing Harry had ever seen in his life.

He was dressed in fancy day robes which consisted of many layers in green and dark gold. His cousin took him to the Burke Mansion directly after elevenses by Apparition – the least chance of spoiling your robes, he had said – and there, Mrs. Theodore Burke took charge of him. She directed him to the big golden pavilion that stood next to the mansion, with rows and rows chairs facing the cliffs and the sea. He found, to his astonishment, that his seat was directly in the first row. "Isobel and Abduaziz should join you here soon," she said, "Mrs. Abdullah Shafiq, I mean."

"Yes, I know," Harry nodded, looking around to spot someone he knew. There were still only few people present, but he noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt approaching in the distance, and Mercurius Ollivander – though he was headed to what he learned was the bride's side, which confused Harry, because wasn't he Alduin's second cousin or something like that? The rules on who was seated on whose side seemed very complicated to Harry, in this world where everyone appeared to be related to everyone else from all sides.

The Shafiqs come, or rather, Mrs. Abdullah and Abdulaziz, as had been announced, both dressed very fancily. Harry greeted them enthusiastically and immediately asked his friend: "Where is your dad and Gamila?"

"Dad is somewhere with your cousin – they'll be coming in together, you know."

Harry hadn't, but was unwilling to show his ignorance by admitting it, and so he just nodded. "And Gamila?"

"With your cousin's bride. She's a bridesmaid."

"Oh, right." At least he had some vague knowledge that bridesmaids were supposed to come in with the bride, but he didn't want to discuss this in too much detail either. "Oh, look, there's the Crouches!" He said instead, and they amused themselves by people spotting until Mrs. Abdullah told them to quiet down, by which time, the place was completely filled with people.

Then, music sounded from an invisible source, and Harry's cousin appeared at the other end of the aisle, accompanied, as Abdulaziz had said, by Mr. Abdullah, and also by an official looking wizard. Alduin was wearing fantastic robes in shades of grey, silver and black and looked very noble and like someone not quite of this world. When he reached the front, he turned to the side, Mr. Abdullah behind him, and looked in the direction he came from. Harry followed his gaze, and realized, for the first time, how beautiful Miss Burke truly was.

She came, dressed in rich blue, her hair done up in some extraordinarily complicated pattern, a heavy jewelled necklace on her neck and matching bracelets on her arms. The train of her robes must have had several yards, and she looked like a medieval queen, just as his cousin looked like a king. For the first time in months, Harry felt out of place. Surely he would never be as noble and imposing and regal as these people? Had his parents been like this? He wondered. He would have to look over the pictures from their wedding again…

Gamila was walking in front of Miss Burke, in pretty silver robes with a small bouquet of flowers in her hand, and looked very cute. She wasn't alone either – three other girls were with her, and four boys, one of whom was little Daniel, Miss Burke's nephew. Mrs. Mercurius Ollivander was there as well, walking behind Miss Burke and carrying the train, and Harry wondered why for a moment before he remembered hearing something about her being the matron of honour.

Miss Burke reached the front and the official wizard started speaking. It wasn't long, only a few sentences and then the bride and the groom said their vows – something very noble-sounding Harry did not entirely understand and was not sure was wholly in English – and exchanged rings and kissed, and golden stars erupted above them as the music changed to something very jubilant. "I pronounce you bonded for life," the official wizard said, and disapparated. Miss Burke – no, she was Mrs. Travers now, wasn't she? How strange… - turned to face the crowd, together with Alduin, and Harry understood this was the moment to offer congratulations. He rose, a little unsure, and stood behind the Burke family in the forming line and tried to listen to what they said to get some inspiration.

Getting through this part, a little awkwardly he thought, he waited for the Shafiqs to be done. Mr. Abdullah joined them now, his official duty done for the moment. "Let's go to the reception area," he said, "it's too crowded here to be comfortable."

That was certainly true, and so Harry followed him on a red carpet to a pavilion next to this one, which he could have sworn hadn't been there until now. They just stood there on the edges of it, gradually joined by others, and Harry wondered why they didn't sit somewhere when his question was answered by Mrs. Theodore telling her little daughter that it was very impolite to sit before the newlyweds came in. He was relieved he hadn't asked.

"How did you like the ceremony?" He asked, directign the comment to Abdulaziz.

"Alexandra looked so nice," Harriet Bulstrode, who stood nearby, replied before Harry's friend could. "I would like to have a tiara like hers!"

Her mother laughed at this. "Maybe on your wedding day," she replied. "Family jewels are not for playing princess!"

"Uncle Alduin's robes were really great too, though," Abdulaziz noted.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "They just seem to fit him so well...I mean his personality, not..."

Abdulaziz laughed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "It's true, too. But yours appear to have as many layers!"

Harry grimaced. It was true, and in spite of the cooling charms, it was the beginning of July and he was starting to feel it.

The reception was very grand too, and there were so many courses Harry had trouble eating all the food. His mouth constantly full, he listened to Mr. Abdullah's stories of his own wedding, and to Abdulaziz's memories of the ones he had seen. "The Odgen wedding was fun," he said, "but not near as awesome as this one. The Rowles were closer to it, but still, I think your cousin is easily pulling the event of the decade."

Afterwards, they all returned to the first tent, which had changed into a dance floor in the meantime, with small tables – well, smaller than the huge table where they all ate lunch was - all around it. Harry had a place at Alduin's, together with the youngest Shafiqs and their children and the youngest Ollivanders and theirs. He watched with interest as Alduin and Miss...Mrs. Travers went to dance together. They were very smooth. _Is there something my cousin can't do?_ Harry thought with irritation, but then he remembered Alduin wasn't a very good flier and that calmed him a little.

After this dance, the bride went to dance with her father and Alduin with Mrs. Muhammad Shafiq. Harry remembered that there had been some discussion about this. Alduin's mother was dead, of course, so they had to decide who'd take her place in this, and he recalled the new Mrs. Travers jokingly suggesting Mrs. Jeremiah Smith, since she was apparently Alduin's mother's cousin. Alduin's expression at that had been priceless, and he ended up with his father's cousin, because, as he had said, he actually _liked_ her. Mrs. Travers went to dance with Mr. Abdullah and Alduin with Mrs. Mercurius, then, but Harry was starting to get bored. The dances looked all the same. He looked around to see who sat at the other tables, and noticed the Malfoys nearby, seated with the rest of the Shafiqs, Mr. and Mrs. Ollivander and some people he didn't know. "Hey," he said, turning to Abdulaziz, "I'll go and talk to some other people. Want to come too?"

"Just wait till my dad finishes this dance," the boy replied, "and I'll go."

Harry obligingly waited. Many more couples appeared on the floor for the next number, and it took the two boys a while to to worm their way between all of those headed in that direction to get to Draco. "Hello," Harry said, plopping down to the seats of Mr. and Mrs. Muhammad, who had gone to dance. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Draco nodded. "The ceremony looked great," he said, "and the food was brilliant." He hesitated. "You don't know Horatio, I guess?"

Harry shook his head, looking at the older boy Draco gestured to. "Well, then, this is Horatio Yaxley. His parents are dancing at the moment. And Horatio, this is Harry Potter."

They nodded at each other. "So you're at Hogwarts, right?" Harry said. "What year?"

"I'll be starting my third in September. You and Draco are both going to be first years, right?"

"Yeah. And you're the first person currently at Hogwarts I'm speaking to, so...can I interrogate you?"

Horatio laughed. "Sure," he said, "but I don't know I can tell you much your cousin couldn't."

"At least you can tell us about the teachers," Draco said. "I'm interested as well."

At this point, another boy appeared behind Horatio and nodded to them. "May I sit down?" He asked the Malfoys, as the only adults present at the table, politely.

"Of course," Mrs. Malfoy replied, pulling out of her conversation with her husband for a moment.

"Harry, this is Roger Davies, my best friend," Horatio said, "and Roger, this is Harry Potter."

There was another mutual nod. "They were just about to grill me over Hogwarts," Horatio added.

Roger laughed. "Ah, future ickle firsties. What can you expect?"

Harry fought the urge to stick out his tongue at him. The potentially interesting conversation was interrupted again by the adults returning from their dance, forcing Harry, Abdulaziz and Roger to get up.

"Let's go back to the reception area," Abdulaziz suggested. "No one's there now, and we can all sit."

This idea was approved, but there was another delay as they passed the Shacklebolt table and Harry stopped briefly to greet them, since he hadn't done so yet. He was also introduces to Maurice and Kiara, the Shacklebolt children. Kiara had just finished her first year at Hogwarts, while her brother was to start his fourth. He was fourteen already, and so appeared to see himself as above talking to 'little kids'. At least that's what his look seemed to indicate when Horatio told them when they were going and asked whether they wanted to go too. Kiara, however, got up and accompanied them.

"Ignore my brother," she said with a sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He's normally okay, but the last couple of months...it's been driving my parents up the wall as well, ever since we came back. Well, mainly Mum. Dad says it's just part of being a teenager."

"I can't wait to be fourteen too," Horatio muttered. "I mean, my birthday is right at the beginning of January, so I only have half a year left, but they will still send me to bed at ten, just you wait. And of course Roger here is even worse off."

At Harry's questioning look, Roger explained: "I was born in September, so I will _just_ miss all of the summer dinner parties."

They sat in the reception area and talked about Hogwarts, and gradually, other older children joined them there, until there was about twenty of them. But Horatio was proven right, since at ten, Mrs. Theodore Burke appeared and told them that house-elves would direct them to their rooms. "You can stay up as long as you want," she explained, "but I want you to stay inside the house."

That only served to make Harry curious, but he didn't want to make trouble on Alduin's special day, and so he took himself quietly inside the manor, where they continued to interrogate the three members of their little group who were already fortunate enough to attend Hogwarts. Horatio and Roger were both Ravenclaws, and very vocal in support of their house, but they did not convince Harry, who sided with Kiara's defense of Gryffindor.

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The next morning, he woke up late and it took him a while to realized where he was. Coming down to breakfast, he discovered most of the Burke family there. "So, did you enjoy the wedding?" Mrs. Tacitus asked.

"Yes, it was very impressive," Harry replied politely while putting some bacon and scrambled eggs on his plate. "I really liked their robes, and the food was very good."

Mrs. Theodore smiled at him. "You cousin was very well dressed," she agreed. "Grey and silver really become him. But the robes you had were very nice too."

"Er," said Harry, "I let him choose it, I don't understand robes much..."

"Oh course you did. No one expects you to pick your own dress robes at eleven, Harry!"

"Though Alexandra certainly insisted that she should be allowed to do so when she was your age," Mrs. Tacitus added.

Her daughter-in-law laughed. "She would," she agreed. "I don't remember it much, but I think I didn't really care – not at eleven, anyway – and mostly tried to stay in the bookshop while Mum went to shop for clothes."

"And your mother let you get away with that?" Mrs. Tacitus asked in some surprise.

"Not really, no," Mrs. Theodore admitted, "but that didn't mean I didn't keep trying."

Harry turned to Mrs. Theodore. "Your mother wasn't a Ravenclaw?" He asked curiously. He knew that she was, as well as every member of the family currently living in the mansion.

"Oh no, she was a Gryffindor. Shacklebolt by birth. Actually your cousin's first cousin once removed."

"Oh, right, I member the family tree..." He frowned. He should have known this.

Mrs. Theodore smiled at him again. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It will pass into your blood in time. It's too much new information at once, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

Returning to Travers Manor, he found the newly-weds just sitting down to elevenses. "Good morning, cousin Alduin, Miss- er, Mrs. Travers," he said awkwardly as he went to join them.

She smiled at him. She was dressed in her airy, simple elegant style again, but Harry thought he would always remember her as queenly as she was at the wedding, and could see something of it in her even now. "None of that," she said. "I'm now your cousin by marriage, as well as your guardian's wife – so please, do call me Alexandra. Or at least cousin, since I know you still have trouble calling my husband Alduin."

"All right. Thanks."

"How did you enjoy the wedding?"

Harry repeated the compliments from breakfast, and Alduin asked him: "And how was the company?"

"Oh, that was great! I mean I met people who are attending Hogwarts for the first time, and it was so exciting to talk about it!"

"There is going to be so much more of that," his new cousin promised. "Being a proper lady of the house now, I can give garden parties, and in fact, I'm planning one in about a fortnight – after our supposed honeymoon period passes."

Harry was confused. "But aren't you supposed to go somewhere for honeymoon?"

"Yes, but we decided that we can postpone that until after you are at Hogwarts – no sense losing a big chunk of the last two months we have with you, when we can comfortably go away for two months once you are at school!"

Harry went red. "You didn't have to- I mean, I could have stayed anywhere, or here alone, or-"

"Harry," Alduin said seriously, "we know we didn't have to, but we wanted to. It's no great loss for us, and it really makes much more sense this way."

"Besides," cousin Alexandra added, laughing, "we couldn't trust anyone with you education, could we? They would certainly let you slack off!"

Harry grimaced.

Alduin returned the conversation on track. "But we have to have a honeymoon period when we don't go much anyway," he explained, "otherwise the papers would start to talk. But after that, there are going to be plenty of parties here."

"Why would the papers talk?"

Alduin and Alexandra exchanged a look. "To the romantic mind," he explained, "the newlyweds are supposed to be so full of each other after the wedding that they don't want to see anyone else for a while. If we didn't observe this rule, some of the society reporters would jump on this fact and use it to discuss whether ours was a marriage of love or simple political advantage."

"And- I mean-," Harry stuttered, realizing there was no polite way to ask this.

Alduin raised an eyebrow at him. "Whatever the answer," he said, "we prefer the papers not speculating about us in this way."

"It's fashionable nowadays to have marriages based on romantic love," Alexandra added, "and we find it easier to avoid doing anything that might cast a shade of doubt on ours being such. As I'm sure Alduin had already explained to you, good press can be advantageous in many ways."

Harry concluded that he simply did not understand his cousins.


	26. Traverses Ascending

AN: Sorry for the delay. Sometimes I feel like I'm giving entirely new meanings to the word overcommitted...

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The two weeks of the so called honeymoon passed, and the promised garden party at Travers Manor was finally about to happen. Before it did, however, a short discussion about the guest list had to take place, because the Weasleys were not asked.

When Harry protested, Alduin tried to explain: "What you want is to ask Ron and Neville. What I want is to ask neither of them – not because I have anything against them," he _did_ have some objections to Ron, but that was not the reason, "but because neither Mrs. Longbottom nor the Weasleys have any manners. So I decided on a compromise – asking only Neville, because at least there is only one Mrs. Longbottom, whereas there are many Weasleys. I promise you the Weasleys will be asked during the summer, on some other occasions. Maybe we'll even start asking them to our garden parties in time. But this is the first one, and so it is highly symbolic. As such, I decided to go for the middle way. After all, it sort of works even if we follow the regular basis on which invitations are sent – the Weasleys aren't related to us closely enough to warrant an invitation, but Neville is - to you, anyway."

Harry had to agree that it was reasonable.

There was also another matter to ensure: that Neville actually came. To that end, Harry told him not to come over on Monday as usual, that he'd come to Longbottom Hall instead. He had counted – correctly, as it turned out – on Mrs. Longbottom being unable to miss the opportunity to talk to him once he was in her house.

First, he had to endure a long lecture about the importance of Gryffindor values. He had never once wavered in his sympathy for that house during the months of his cousins showcasing the virtues of Ravenclaw, but now felt the stirrings of a wish to go to a different house just to spite the lady, but he controlled himself and, at the end of it, said: "And Neville will come to the garden party the day after tomorrow, right? I really want him to be there...I mean, when he isn't, I only have Draco to talk to..."

Mrs. Longbottom agreed with some alacrity, and Harry, proud of himself and rather relieved, went out to the garden with Neville.

Of course, now he had to deal with Neville's nerves about the matter. "I've never been to a garden party," the boy said. "What if I won't know what to do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Neville," he said, "it's really easy. You just come in, grab some food from the tables laden with it, and come sit with me and my friends before your Gran stops you, and talk to us."

Neville frowned. "But I don't know anyone except you there," he said. "I'm...not that good at talking to new people."

"How would you know? From what you said, you never really meet any."

Neville blushed, and Harry immediately apologized. "No, it's true," Neville said. "That makes it worse, I think. But at any rate, it was really hard for me after I met you to talk to you, and the same with Ron. It gets easier with time, but..."

Harry sighed. "Look, you don't even have to speak after you introduce yourself, if you don't want to. We usually have plenty to talk about, so you can just sit and listen if you want. And maybe later, after you get to know these people, it'll be better."

Neville nodded a little shakily.

And so everything was finally arranged and the day of the party arrived. Harry knew most of the children his age who were present already, from garden parties or from the wedding, but he met Ernie Macmillan properly for the first time, the last Ancient family child his age he hadn't known yet. The seemed solemn and a little pompous, but he was snatched away for conversation by Susan and Hannah soon enough, so it was difficult to judge.

Harry led the people that gathered around him to his favourite spot in the garden, just by the lake. Gamila had left at the head of a group of the younger children some time before, and the older ones had now space to talk in peace.

Well, almost.

They spent a good portion of their time by trying to lose Zacharias Smith in the grounds. "I wish he wasn't related to my cousin," Harry muttered.

"At least you only see him at parties like this," Neville replied quietly, no doubt thinking of his own embarrassing relations, and Draco gave him a sympathetic look. "Everyone has someone in the family they're not exactly proud of," he commented. Harry saw him exchange a look with Edmund Crouch at this – Edmund' cousin and Draco's aunt both went to prison for the same crime, which was torturing Neville's parents, he knew. He realized how awkward this must be for them.

Ernie did not help the situation by pompously saying: "Well, I cannot recall a single relation I would be ashamed of."

Horatio rolled his eyes, and Kiara asked: "And Zach is what?"

Ernie frowned. "Well, all right, except for Zach."

Everyone laughed, and they moved on to less conflicting topics – namely, how much they were all looking forward to Hogwarts. Horatio, Roger and Kiara were once more the centre of attention.

"Will you tell us what happens during the Sorting?" Abdulaziz asked. "Please?"

Kiara laughed at him. "It's the best kept secret of the wizarding world!" She replied. "Of course we're not going to break it!"

"I bet I could get Father or Mother to tell me," Draco said in that superior tone of his.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, do, and then let us know!" He said.

"Actually, I'm not sure that is even possible," Horatio remarked. "I know for certain there are spells on Hogwarts: A History, and other books about the school, that prevent people who haven't been through the Sorting reading about it. I wouldn't be too surprised if it was just generally impossible to discuss with the uninitiated."

Ernie nodded solemnly. "Do you think it cannot be spoken of because it's so terrible?" He asked.

Kiara giggled. "I take that as a no," Draco commented drily.

"Hey!" Horatio exclaimed. "Don't give the game away!"

Edmund, who had been silent until now, said: "It seems stupid that they would ask us to perform some complicated things when we were only starting Hogwarts. Not many people would know how, would they?"

"Plus there are all the people from Muggle families," Harry added. "They'd have no clue."

"Well, perhaps that's how you get Sorted – you get a task only proper wizard-born people would know how to do, and when you can do it, you get to be a Slytherin, and when you can's, you end up in some of the lesser houses."

Harry gave Draco a mean look. He had known the boy was likely to have opinions like this, of course, but this was the first time he actually heard them. They simply never usually came across Muggles in their conversations.

He thoughts about what to say, when Neville surprised him by observing, in a quiet voice: "You really shouldn't say things like this."

Draco's eyes widened, and Harry was frantically thinking about ways to support Neville without making the conflict worse when Horatio added with a laugh: "Yeah, especially as you are, in fact, the only Slytherin sympathiser present today!"

Draco's eyes widened some more.

"Who does Charles support?" Kiara asked curiously. "I mean, your parents are a mix of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, aren't they?"

Charles Bulstrode nodded. "I go with Ravenclaw, though."

"Traitor," Kiara muttered.

"Yes, he is," his sister, Harriet, agreed.

"No, he simply recognizes quality when he sees it," Roger corrected.

"Ravenclaw power!" Horatio added.

"I second that," Abdulaziz chimed in.

"Well? Edmund?" Horatio turned to the quiet boy.

"Yes, of course," was the answer, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"It's not fair, you have the home advantage," Harry muttered.

"Don't give up, Harry, we shall overcome!" Kiara said with a laugh. "There's almost as many of us here. You and me and Harriet, and Neville is with us as well, aren't you?"

Neville nodded, apparently having exhausted his courage in his resistance to Draco – which, Harry had to admit, was rather impressive, all things considered.

"I feel rather isolated," Ernie muttered.

"Well, you can go find Zach," Abdulaziz suggested with a snigger.

"Where do you think he's gone off to?" Harry wondered.

"Probably went to bother the younger kids," Draco guessed, though he still looked a little unnerved at the realization of how without allies he was here.

"Oh damn," Abdulaziz cursed. "Poor Gamila. I feel like I should go rescue her."

"Let's see what they're up to," Harry agreed. He was a bit of a host today, and he didn't like the idea of leaving he little kids at Zach's mercy.

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The first formal dinner where he would be playing the host was approaching, and Alduin was a little apprehensive. Not nervous, exactly – it wasn't like he didn't know what to do, and they _had_ chosen their guests well – but still, a lot depended on first impressions. The garden party had gone over well, fortunately, and so had the visit of his transcendental sciences friends two weeks ago, but this was another level. There were going to be less guests than at the garden party, but everything would be scrutinized much more carefully.

Alexandra seemed completely unfazed, as always. If his wife had any insecurities, she had to be hiding them so well that perhaps she forgot about them herself. She looked lovely and the picture of ease on the evening in question, sitting in the drawing room in her customary shades of rich blue. Alduin tried to take a leaf out of her book.

Her family arrived first, all of the Burkes except the children and Mrs. Daniel. They were formally welcomed and a conversation topic was found easily in rehashing the wedding for the umpteenth time. Alduin had truly enjoyed that day, but now was thankful for the arrival of the Shafiqs with Mrs. Leopold Rosier some minutes later, and the distraction it provided. Mrs. Sofoclus Burke immediately started a conversation with her niece, Mrs. Muhammad, and since they were both of a rather lively character, most of the company was soon drawn into their discussion and talking about practical uses of runes in modern magic.

"I've never seen much point," Perpetua Burke was saying as she shrugged. "But then, I've never had that much use for any kinds of magic that aren't immediate spells, so..."

"That's the Shacklebolt blood speaking," Mrs. Muhammad said with a laugh. "Your father and grandparents must have seizures when they hear you speak like that."

"They do, a little," Perpetua admitted sheepishly and laughed as well. "I think they quite despair of me."

"As a matter of fact," Alduin joined that conversation, "I distinctly remember Valerius telling me that he is grateful you, at least, chose a proper magical field. I think he was distinctly underwhelmed by your sister's chosen path."

Perpetua sighed. "Or my sister-in-law's, yes. To listen to him, you'd think literature and philosophy were something shameful to devote your time to."

"To be fair to him, Valerius tends to think that everything that's not transcendental sciences is sort of shameful," Muhammad said with a wry smile.

"Well, you'd understand that," his wife muttered.

"Now, now, no shaming of transcendentals when we are in one of their houses," Mrs. Sofoclus tinkled. "We can badmouth them later when we're alone, Gwyneth."

"Is that a promise?"

Yes, Alduin thought, it was looking well so far.

Mrs. Sofoclus had always been his favourite member of the Burke family, long before he knew Alexandra properly. She was his grandmother's cousin by marriage, and though the two women had always rather disliked each other, Alduin's mother had had a great liking for the lady – a liking about which he had always wondered to what degree had it been an intentional provocation of her mother-in-law, who disapproved of Rowan Travers née Potter and was not always very good at hiding it, and to what degree it had been a genuine thing – and she had passed down this liking to her son.

The conversation flowed on, in the drawing room and later at the table. It was only after the meal, when the ladies departed for their Madeira and the men remained behind, that it halted a little.

"Do you feel Harry is ready for Hogwarts?" Mr. Sofoclus asked Alduin as he passed on the port decanter.

"As ready as can be," Alduin answered, as he had many times before. "We're awaiting the letter any day now."

Theodore nodded. "It should come soon," he said, "even though I've heard that lately, it just depends on how soon can Dumbledore get someone to teach Defense."

"Hasn't it always?" Abdullah asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but the pool of people he can draw from becomes smaller and smaller as time passes. Perpetua has been asked repeatedly already."

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "Does Dumbledore not know you have small children? Leaving aside all the other reasons you might not wish to teach there."

"He's perfectly aware, but what can he do? Uncle Graham has already taught there twice, and everyone whose children are already grown from the Defence circles has done the rounds at least once, except Mr. Yaxley. Perpetua said there were bets going on among them about how long is the old man going to hold out."

"Which old man?" Abdullah asked pointedly, and everyone laughed.

And the port was good, too. Yes, Alduin felt, unless the ladies started arguing over the Madeira, this evening was going to be a success.


	27. The Wandmaker

Not even a whole week after the first garden party, on a fine July morning, Harry was sitting at breakfast and stuffing his face with bacon when the morning post appeared at the end of the table. Alduin took it, as usual, and shuffled through letters to see which were for him and which were for other members of the household. Suddenly he paused, and with a glint in his eye, handed one of the missives to Harry.

It was the Hogwarts letter.

The boy actually squealed with excitement a little, and both of his cousins laughed. He examined the seal with the Hogwarts crest carefully before breaking it and looking at the letter. "This is so cool," he said, taking out the equipment list. Then he raised his eyes to Alduin and asked: "Can we go shopping? Please, please can we go? I want to finally have my own wand!"

Both adults laughed again. "Yes, Harry, of course we can go," Alduin said. "Just let us finish breakfast first!"

They set out within half an hour, and Harry couldn't help feeling that he had never been so happy in his life.

He was walking down the Diagon Alley with Alduin and his wife, to whom his cousin had offered his arm as soon as the gateway to the alley opened. It was a beautiful summer day, there was a light breeze playing with their thin robes, and Alexandra's wide-brimmed hat she wore to protect against the sun looked so impressive. Harry's and Alduin's were smaller, but they were enough to prevent the light from shining into their eyes too brightly as they looked around the shops.

"Can I get the wand first?" Harry asked.

"No," his cousin replied, "first, we are going to Gringotts."

"The bank? Why?"

"I recently got the key from your vault from Dumbledore. I think it's time you saw the finance at your disposal for yourself."

They reached the white marble steps, and Harry tried not to be too obvious as he stared at the goblins. He had seen them before, from a distance, but from up close they were even more interesting, and it took a slight clearing of Alduin's throat to remind him of his manners and help his tear his eyes away.

Alduin talked to one of the goblins behind the counter, giving Harry more opportunity to stare, and then there was an epic ride in a little trolley – it was what he imagined Muggle amusement parks were like – and his vault was opened, and..."Whoa!" Harry let escape, covering his mouth with his hands, shooting Alduin a guilty look. He knew one was supposed to treat any amount of money one had as completely normal and bellow one's regard, but seriously, this room was packed with gold!

Alduin smiled a little. "Take some of this if you want," he said. "I will obviously pay for your school supplies, but I won't be giving you any pocket money – since the entire purpose of that is ensuring that children have some money of their own, and you already have that – so take something for your personal expenses."

Harry wanted to argue, but knew it would be extremely bad manners in front of the goblin, so he just said: "How much do you think I should take?"

"For your first year, I think a hundred galleons should be more than enough. If you run out, we can stop by here during Christmas break."

Harry counted a hundred golden coins into the bag his cousin handed him and left the vault in a very pensive frame of mind. Alduin took one look at him and told the goblin: "Now take us to the Travers vault, if you please."

The bank employee frowned. "You did not indicate you wanted to visit that when you were at the counter. Your identity needs to be verified first, then you can come back."

Alduin hesitated, then nodded and the entire procedure was repeated, until they arrived to his own family vault. There, Harry watched in fascination as the door disappeared under the goblin touch. "What would happen if someone else tried this?" He asked.

"It would suck him in," the bank employee replied. "We would come over to get him out...eventually."

His curiosity satisfied, the boy now looked inside. He managed to control his reaction this time, but his eyes were very wide when he turned to Alduin. The man took some little money from the vault to justify the visit, and then they returned to the surface.

Once they were outside the bank, Alduin cast a privacy spell around them and said: "I wanted you to see my vault, Harry, to help you understand that I was certainly not depriving myself of anything by paying for your school things."

"But...I mean...why would you do it? If I can pay for it myself?"

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "If you received inheritance from a grandmother, for example, do you think your parents, were they alive, would let you pay for your things with that money? If they had enough of their own?"

Harry had to consider this for a moment. And to imagine what the Dursleys would do with Dudley. "Well, I guess not," he said at length, "but..."

"I'm your cousin and guardian, Harry, not a paid caretaker. Besides, you will need a lot of money to rebuild Potter Manor one day. You'd better save up for that."

Harry frowned. "Should I have taken this much money, then?"

Alduin smiled. "Do not worry about it. There is plenty for a reconstruction left, you do not have to limit yourself in what sweets and comics you buy. It's only if you were planning to buy a new racing broom or a house or something that you should consider these matters carefully. And now, do you want to start with the wand? What parts of the equipment do you want to buy in person? Apart form the wand, we can owl-order everything, but I assumed you might want to have a hands-on experience in your first Hogwarts shopping."

"You bet!" Harry took out the equipment list and looked it over. "I don't need to buy the robes in person," he said. "All the rest, I would like to – I mean, it wouldn't matter about the books, but I want to see if they have something new and interesting in the shop."

"Very well then. Let us go to Ollivander's."

"Ollivander's? The wandmaker is related to your friend Mr. Mercurius?" Harry asked curiously as they set out down the street.

"Yes. Mr. Garrick is Mercurius' first cousin twice removed – his grandfather's cousin. It's a family business."

"So the Ollivanders know how to make wands?" Harry had never heard anything like that mentioned during any of the visits. In fact, he had been under the impression that Mr. Mercurius was interested in healing, and his sister in charms.

"Not all of them," Alduin clarified, "though they know more about it than the average person. But the craft is traditionally practiced by side branches of the family – Mercurius' great-great-grandfather was one of the few exceptions. It depends, of course, on who inherits the talent."

"Do you need some sort of special power to make wands?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not precisely, but you do need to be very sensitive to magical energies, so the one who went into wand-making was usually the one who had the most sensitivity of the new generation. It's been passing from father to son for the last three generations, but that's more an exception than a rule."

Harry mused on this for a moment. "Have I seen this wand-making Mr. Ollivander somewhere, at a party or something?" He asked then.

"No. He is usually asked to the bigger gatherings, but he hardly ever comes. Social events bore him, I believe. He is fully engulfed in his work. You will understand when you see him."

They were approaching the shop now, and curious, Harry pushed the door open. An old man was standing behind the counter, and raised his head when he heard the bell.

"Oh!" He said. "Alduin Travers and Alexandra Burke – or I should say Mr. and Mrs. Travers now, shouldn't I? Welcome!"

"Good morning," Alduin replied. "I see you have kept up to date with the gossip, even though you never attend anything personally."

"I still see my own family, you know, and Mercurius mentions you from time to time. And this must be your cousin and ward, Mr. Potter!"

"Good morning," Harry said politely.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Potter." He stepped from behind the counter and approached the Traverses. "And how are your wands? Everything in perfect order?" He focused on Alduin. "Dragon heartstring, fir, eleven and half inches, am I right?"

Alduin smiled. "You know very well you are. And yes, thank you for asking, it works perfectly."

"I am glad to hear it. And yours, Mrs. Travers? Elm, dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarters inches, isn't it? A noble combination."

"I'm perfectly satisfied with it still, thank you for asking."

"I assume you are here to get a wand for Mr. Potter, then." Finally, he turned his eyes to the boy. "I remember you parents very well, you know," he said, "or rather, the wands I sold them. Your mother's was ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow and a phoenix feather, good for charms. Your father's, on the other hand, was mahogany and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, excellent for transfiguration."

"What are my cousins' wands good for?" Harry asked curiously.

"They are both very good dueling wands. Mrs. Burke's is also handy for charms. And now, let us see what your wand is going to be like, Mr. Potter!"

The wandmaker started to measure him in various unexpected ways. "Can you tell what wand I'm going to have based on my measurements?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not precisely," the old man replied. "It only gives me statistical probabilities. Knowing your parents' wand is important too. I have to narrow down what I offer you in some manner, because I have hundreds of wands here. But I think I have enough to work with for the moment...yes...try this one."

Harry took the wand offered to him, full of excitement, but to his great disappointment, nothing happened. He shot a questioning look to Alduin, who said: "Apparently, not this one."

So he tried another and another, and another one after that. It went on and on, and his frustration must have shown in his face, because Alduin came closer to him and said: "Don't worry. It is normal to take a while."

"I believe I was here for over an hour before Mr. Garrick Ollivander found the combination that was just right for me," Alexandra added.

"I would say almost certainly so, yes," the wandmaker agreed. "You were a tricky customer, and you husband's ward is proving to be just the same...but I have an idea...oh, yes, why not...unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took it, and immediately smiled.

"Do you feel anything?" Alduin asked.

"Yes, sort of...warmth."

"Excellent! Now wave it, if you will," Mr. Garrick Ollivander directed him, and Harry obligingly did, only to give a small cry of surprise as a shower of red and gold sparks flew out of it.

Alduin grimaced. "Congratulations," he said.

"You don't look too happy," Harry observed.

"It is just that I can see you are a Gryffindor through and through. But, well, that was to be expected."

"Did you get blue and bronze sparks?" Harry wondered.

"No," his cousin replied. "Silver and bronze."

"Your cousin's wife did have blue ones, though," the wandmaker remembered.

"Yes, blue and silver."

"I'm curious to hear what Draco will have," Harry said. "To hear him talk, you would expect him to get green and silver, exactly in the shades of the Slytherin crest."

His cousins laughed. Mr. Garrick was concentrating on Harry's wand, though, muttering: "Curious...very curious..."

"The holly and phoenix feather combination is bound to be rather unstable, isn't it?" Alduin asked.

"That's not what I meant – I took care of that when I made the wand. No, it is simply that it so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in Mr. Potter's wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that he should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave him that scar."

Harry stared. Alexandra raised her eyebrow, and Alduin asked: "You mean that Riddle's and Harry's wands have twin cores? That might come in handy one day."

"Yes, certainly so. Nevertheless, it is curious."

Alduin shrugged, and told Mr. Garrick to bill the wand to his Gringotts account. They went to shop for the rest of Harry's list, but he couldn't get the visit at Ollivander's out of his head, for more than one reason.

"I was surprised to hear about your wand," he said to Alduin at lunch. "I wouldn't have expected that combination. I mean, dragon heartstring and made for dueling...it makes you sound...I don't know, really dangerous."

Alduin only smiled, but Alexandra laughed that light laugh of hers. "Do not be deceived by his calm exterior, Harry," she said, "he can be very dangerous."

Alduin gave her what seemed like a reproving look, and then commented equally lightly: "At least I don't hide behind a facade of charm like some people."

"It's true, you have dragon heartstring and dueling too, don't you? Have you ever? Dueled, I mean? I can't imagine it!"

Alexandra raised one eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"I dunno, it just seems so...undignified, or something. I just can't imagine you getting riled up about something enough to actually pull your wand out." Alexandra, he was convinced, would just laugh at everyone.

"There can be other reasons for dueling, Harry," she replied with an enigmatic smile, but then she said: "You speaking about Draco earlier gave me an idea. What would you say to an afternoon party for all the future Hogwarts first years from the Ancient families? In a few days? You could talk about the upcoming year to you heart's pleasure."

"All of them?"

She sighed. "Yes, even Ronald," she said. "It being this sort of party, we could ask only him, so that makes it less impossible."

"In that case, yes, absolutely! It would be great!"

"Then I will arrange it after lunch. And start thinking about what you want to do for your birthday, too."

Going out to fly in the afternoon, Harry thought about how much had changed in the house after Alexandra moved in. It was gradual, but very definite. She was a real lady of the manor. For some reason he had expected her to be almost as passive as he was, and Alduin to just continue running everything, but it seemed that, on the contrary, Alduin withdrew from domestic business almost entirely and left it to his wife. Harry supposed it made sense and he should have expected it, but Alexandra had just always looked like someone who could never be bothered with something so mundane. Then again, she also made it seem so very easy when she talked to the house-elves. She even planned a big garden party like it was a mere unimportant idea that occurred to her on the way to something bigger, or so it seemed to Harry. And after all, maybe it was accurate – he was sure that, compared to the things she normally thought about, arranging a party was childishly simple, in spite of how many things he had seen her taking care of as she prepared it, and how complicated it therefore seemed to him.

He thought again about what had been said at lunch. Could she really be dangerous? He remembered her as she had been at the wedding again. That woman he could imagine giving a regal order to have someone executed, but that was all. No, Alduin must have been making fun of her.

As for the matter of him having a similar wand as Riddle, Harry wondered if it should bother him. He had no idea what it meant, but Alduin seemed to think that it was useful, if anything, so he decided to put it out of his mind for now.


	28. The Best Birthday

AN: Hello and sorry for being a week late with this update – don't you just hate it when RL gets in the way? Next update should be on time.

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Looking at all the future Ancient families first years together, Harry thought about what the year was probably going to be like. Hannah Abbot sat with Susan Bones, and they both declared firmly they were headed for Hufflepuff. It was unlikely they wouldn't get their wish. Ernie McMillan and Zacharias Smith were planning to be there with them, though Ernie looked like he would appreciate it if there was some other boy to keep him company. Draco was headed to Slytherin, together with Vincent and Greg. Neville and Ron were hoping for Gryffindor, like him. And then there were some undecided. "My family is traditionally Slytherin," Theo was saying, "and I want to go there, but I wouldn't exactly _mind_ Ravenclaw."

"I know what you mean," Daphne replied, and repeated her own preference for anything but Hufflepuff. "No offence," she added.

Millicent joined in. "We used to be a Gryffindor family too, but now it's been really all over the place for generations. My uncle was a Gryffindor, but neither of my parents were...I think I like Slytherin best, like my mum did, but we'll see."

"Oh, do let's agree that we will be Slytherins! I mean, my family is not really that clearly decided, like Millicent's, but most of the Parkinsons have been in Hufflepuff, and I'm so not going there!" Pansy did not add a 'no offence' a the end of that statement, surprising no one at all. "But my parents were Slytherin, and I like that."

Daphne seemed to reconsider the idea that Slytherin was a good choice, in light of this idea of Pansy's. Then, predictably, Zacharias joined in with an offended remarked towards Pansy, and the amusement was arranged for the following thirty minutes, at the end of which Pansy stormed off, enraged, and Zacharias was not talking to anyone. In spite of some of Ron's issues, and Neville's excessive shyness, Harry was very grateful for the House that was likely awaiting him at Hogwarts, compared to what the other options were.

The storm blew over after a while, though, and the future first-years sat all together again, and compared their new wands. "Hawthorn with unicorn hair," Draco was saying. "I had hoped for dragon heartstring, but at least hawthorn is cool."

"Yeah, dragon heartstring would have gone with your name," Harry agreed. "I have holly and phoenix feather."

"Good luck with that! I heard the strangest things about holly..."

"I have willow and unicorn," Ron boasted from his place next to Neville.

Draco sniggered. "How innocent and fragile of you," he said.

"Oh, lay off, Draco," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "It's not like yours is the essence of toughness." Harry knew that Neville's grandmother made him use his father's wand, so he turned to the other side and asked: "And you, Theo?"

"Walnut and phoenix feather," the boy replied, sounding rather proud.

"Another phoenix! I'm glad. But do none of you have a dragon heartstring one? The Traverses both do, so I thought it was quite common..."

"I do," Pansy said immediately. "And I," Susan added from the other side of the table, surprising Harry greatly. "I have a dragon heartstring wand," Zacharis Smith said, and they glared at each other with Pansy, apparently both considering getting a new one because they were unwilling to share anything with the other. "My father's wand has dragon heartstring core too," Neville said, attracting their attention. "And that's what I will be using."

"Your grandmother is very traditional, isn't she?" Susan said diplomatically.

"So, all the rest of you have unicorn wands, or…?"

"No, I have a phoenix core," Daphne explained. "Me too," Millicent added.

"We seem to be divided pretty equally," Daphne continued. "What about woods, do we all have different ones, or is there a match?"

She herself had elm, which was much admired by Draco. Hannah's alder also inspired a surprised and impressed murmur. Susan had apple, Zach had ash and Pansy had chestnut. Greg boasted an English Oak, which earned him a prolonged whistle from Ron and a "behold the new Merlin!" from Draco. Milicent had Larch, which met with quiet approval, as well as Ernie's poplar. The only match was Vincent, who had ash like Zach. He did not seem to be too pleased with the discovery – neither of them was, in fact.

"And Daphne has elm like my cousin Alexandra."

"And like my dad," Draco added. "What does your cousin – Mr. Travers, I mean – have?"

"Fir. Your mum?"

"Acacia."

"Oh, wow!" Daphne looked dreamy. "I really wanted an acacia wand, but this one chose me instead, so, well, ..."

"You're not going to complain about having elm, are you?" Draco asked, amused.

"You only think it's the best because your father has it," Harry commented, laughing, and then said: "What core does he have?"

"Dragon heartstring."

"Oh, really? That means he has the same combination as cousin Alexandra, too. How strange..."

"Why strange?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, they just seem really different. Your father just seems to have a sort of heavy dignity around him – a little like my cousin Alduin – and Alexandra never seems to be solemn at all."

"Hm. Maybe it's the difference in length. How long is your cousin's?"

"Kinda short – something like ten inches, I think."

"There you go. My dad's over fourteen, and a lot less supple, I'd bet."

Harry imagined the same. There was nothing that seemed the least supple about Mr. Malfoy.

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Harry was a little unsure when the Traverses asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. There would be a garden party in any case, they explained, but apart from that? What did he, personally, actually want to do?

Harry considered this difficult problem. He got an owl from Hagrid, asking him to Diagon Alley for the day, but while he didn't have a problem with Hagrid, it wasn't exactly what he imagined he'd spend his birthday doing. "You don't have to go," Alduin assured him when he told him of his dilemma. "Just write back and thank Hagrid for the offer, but tell him you have other plans. Do you, by the way?"

That was, of course, the crux of the matter. He remembered what Dudley used to do for his birthday. Usually the Dursleys took him to a cinema or an amusement part or a zoo. Harry didn't think a cinema or an amusement part would sound like too good an option to Alduin, but perhaps he had a chance with the zoo?

When he presented the idea, it turned out there were actual zoological gardens in the wizarding world as well, and Harry swiftly decided that he was more interested in seeing that than in seeing a regular Muggle one. And so, the day before his birthday, they all set out to see one of the biggest collections of magical creatures in the world.

Harry was enchanted. It was difficult to pick favourites among the many species he found here, but Clabberts were amazing, and Diricawls were just cute, and Horklumps weird. Harry wandered among the enclosures, watching the creatures and asking his cousins lots of questions – questions they were sometimes, to his astonishment, unable to answer. "Magical creatures," Alexandra said, rolling her eyes. "Not really our field." Harry considered that he had truly got used to them always knowing everything.

Something even more interesting than the Traverses being unable to give him answers, however, happened when Harry was inside the pavilion that housed smaller animals in aquariums and terrariums. They were alone there, since it was a beautiful day and most people seemed to wish to avoid the indoors. Harry found a three-headed snake apparently called runespoor in one of the terrariums, and as he approached, he heard it hissing – and then he heard it speak! "That was a damned idiotic idea," one of the heads was saying. "What are we going to do now, eh, tell me that!"

"Alduin!" Harry turned to his cousin, amazed. "It can speak!"

"What?" Alduin turned to him, his eyes widening.

"The runespoor! It can-"

But now Harry suddenly found out that while the runespoor could speak, he, at the moment, could not.

Alduin approached him with a very serious expression on his face. "Forgive me, Harry," he said quietly, "for silencing you. Did you say the runespoor could speak? Just nod."

Harry nodded, rather angry at this treatment.

"Very well, then," Alduin said, exchanging a look with Alexandra. "I'll take the spell off of you now, but please do not converse with the runespoor, and do not mention this again until we're back at the Manor. I know this is irritating, but trust me, I have a very good reason for the way I act."

Very reluctantly, Harry nodded. He really didn't think silencing him had been necessary, but he grudgingly conceded that there were still things about the wizarding world his cousin knew that he didn't.

He stayed listening to the heads of the runespoor arguing for quite some time, and the animals he saw after that seemed rather dull in comparison, especially with the added flair of mystery.

Once back at the manor, Alduin sat Harry down in one of the drawing rooms and said: "Harry, what you discovered today is a unique and wonderful ability – being a parseltongue, being able to talk to snakes of all kinds. Unfortunately, it's also one people are very prejudiced against. You see, you share the skills with Riddle, and because people are so afraid of him, they are afraid of this as well."

Harry stared. "So...just because Riddle could talk to snakes, people are now afraid of talking to snakes? Seriously? Did they start being afraid of using magic too?"

Alduin smiled a little. "No, because that, they can do as well. Don't doubt that if Muggles learned about Riddle, they'd be afraid of magic. With rather a better reason, too. But anyway, I know it's stupid, but this is how it is, and so I'd ask you not to tell anyone about this. And I mean absolutely no one."

"Not even Neville?"

Alduin hesitated. "If you can swear him to secrecy, and are confident he'll keep his word, then yes, you can tell Neville."

Harry smiled, and nodded. "Thanks, I will. I know I can trust him, and he'd never be so silly about this as you say some people are!"

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The garden party for Harry's eleventh birthday was huge, and an enormous success.

Harry had insisted on having the Weasleys that time, since it was supposed to be his birthday and all, and Alduin acceded to his wish, but only Ron, Ginny and their father were asked, on some excuse Harry was not entirely capable of comprehending. Apart from this, it was mostly the same group of people who had been present at the first garden party in mid-July, so Harry took the opportunity to introduce the Weasley children to all his other friends. Ginny was too shy to say much, and Harry only noticed her becoming a bit more lively when Harriet Bulstrode asked her something privately. The two girls soon took off somewhere alone.

As for Ron, he stayed with the main group, but gave Harry some opportunity to wonder if this had been a mistake. Perhaps Alduin knew what he was doing when he kept some of his friends separate. Horatio and Roger, in particular, looked very unimpressed with this new addition to their party. "Will you tell us what the Sorting is?" Ron asked them. "Fred and George told me you have to wrestle a huge troll."

Horatio and Roger rolled their eyes almost in unison. "Not that this surprises me from your brothers," Roger muttered.

"You know them?" Ron asked curiously.

"Of course we know them," Roger said, and Harry could sense the slight disdain in his tone. "They're in our year, and rather hard to ignore, unfortunately."

"Though thank Merlin we don't have any classes with them," Horatio added.

This made Ron frown. "You have something against my brothers?" He asked.

Harry sighed. Yes, maybe Alduin did have a point, and not just with the Weasley children either. Harry had heard from his cousin that the senior Malfoys and the senior Weasleys really disliked each other – even more than the Traverses disliked the Weasleys, that was to say – and had been dreading the meeting. When it took place, as people were starting to gather to watch Harry blow out the candles on his cake and unwrap his gifts, Mr. Malfoy shot Mr. Weasley a look of pure disdain and said: "What are you doing here?" And then, before Mr. Weasley managed to answer, he continued: "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. You're part of respectable society now, aren't you?" His tone made it clear he did not believe that himself.

Harry was desperately trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation when his cousin miraculously appeared. "Lucius, do not bait other people's guests, it's bad form," he said like it didn't matter.

"But when you ask such guests..." Mr. Malfoy replied.

Alduin only gave a short laugh and shook his head, and then turned to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, I wanted to talk to you about something in the Institute, if you could spare a minute?" And he led him away.

Harry looked at Mr. Mafoy's face and saw cold amusement there. "Your cousin Alexandra has my deepest sympathies. I hope you are conscious of the sacrifices your relations are making for you," he said and left to talk to someone else.

Harry was confused, but his friends rejoined him soon afterwards and they drove the scene out of his head by speculating about the presents he was going to get. Most of them turned out to be sweets and books and displayers, but there were a few that stood out. For one, there was a beautiful snowy owl, with a note attached to it that said it was from Hagrid. Harry was touched. He had only seen the man once, really, and then refused to spend an afternoon with him, and he was giving him this amazing animal. Harry would need to write a thank-you note – at least he thought that was what Alduin had told him was done on such occasions. And maybe he should arrange that outing with Hagrid for some other day.

He admired the bird for a moment, but then he remembered himself and turned to the remaining gifts. There was one very small package, and as he reached for it, Alduin told him: "And this is for a more instantaneous form of communication."

It was a small mirror. "What does it do?" Harry asked.

"It's a two-way mirror," his cousin replied. "I have the other one of the pair. If you speak into it, I will be able to hear you, and see your face if you look into it. It's quick, but the disadvantage is that it doesn't always have to be convenient for the recipient of the call to talk when you call them. That is the great advantage of owls – you can read the letters at leisure."

So it was like a phone, only you could only call one person with it. "Do they make mirrors with which you can talk to more than just one person? I don't mean at the same time, but..."

"Multi-way mirrors?" Alexandra asked. "They're very much a novelty, they only came out last year, but yes, they do make them, and you can, in fact, talk to more people at the same time with them. But the mirrors in general aren't really that widespread – I mean, most people just Floo call."

"I have a multi-way mirror," Draco boasted as soon as the gift officialities were done and the children were talking alone again. "It's a pity yours is only two-way, otherwise we could pair them."

Harry shrugged. "Well, we'll see each other all the time at Hogwarts anyway, won't we?"

"Yeah, but given your stubbornness about it, we're unlikely to be in the same house."

"What, you tried to make a snake out of him?" Ron sniggered.

"Ron, please," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "No one's been trying to turn me into anything, in spite of what you or Neville's grandmother might think."

"Neville's grandmother?" Ron asked, confused.

"She insisted Alduin was trying to turn me into an eagle."

"But that would have been idiotic," Draco pointed out. "This way, he will have a strong ally among the Gryffindors one day. He doesn't need more allies in Ravenclaw, he already has those."

"I do not quite think Mrs. Longbottom considered it in this light," Harry said diplomatically.

"Of course not," Draco replied, sniggering again. "If she did things like that, she wouldn't have been a Gryffindor."

Harry rolled his eyes again.


	29. The Heir of Slytherin

Harry had spent most of the day after his birthday getting to know his new pet, and was now enthusiastically telling Alexandra about it. "I called her Hedwig," he said, "and she's so gorgeous! It's great, too, how I can let her fly and she always comes back! Is this some kind of special training, or-"

Before Alexandra could answer, Alduin made a sudden, sharp hissing sound over the newspaper he was reading. "What is it?" His wife asked. She had been reading the other half of it before she put it down to talk to Harry, and so couldn't have seen whatever article it was that disturbed Alduin so.

"There's been a break-in at Gringotts," the man said. "A successful one."

Alexandra immediately turned all of her attention to him. "What vault? What has been taken?"

"The bank is refusing to say."

"Naturally," Alexandra muttered. "I'm surprised they let it out at all."

"It seems there was a small interaction on departure of that thief – even though, once again, there are no details – and that made it impossible to keep it quiet, though they did try. It actually happened the night after Harry's birthday, and they're only reporting it now."

"Does this happen often?" Harry asked.

"Not at all," Alexandra replied.

"Or rather," Alduin clarified, "people always try, of course – the temptation is great – but they're normally unsuccessful, so it doesn't warrant more than a small paragraph on the last page a week later. But an attempt that actually worked...well, that's alarming. There are some very strong enchantments protecting Gringotts. We'll have to wait until we get details, but I don't like this at all."

The same afternoon, Neville was to visit Travers Manor, and so Harry took him to the garden lake again to discuss the various new things he had to talk about. As they walked, Neville was confiding his fear of Hogwarts. "I'm glad I at least met some of the people we'll be in the same year with, thanks yo your party, but...I'm still afraid I'll be terrible at school. What if I get kicked out because I can't do enough magic?"

"Does that actually happen?" Harry asked, worried.

"I've never heard of a case, but come on, I'm practically a Squib!"

Harry frowned. "You're not a Squib, Neville. Forget it. That your family thought so for a long time doesn't mean anything. It just proves they don't understand these things. You got your letter just like any of us, and so that makes you as much a wizard as any of us."

Neville sighed. "I wish I could believe you," he said, "but Gran says differently, and I mean, she's actually been to Hogwarts."

Harry really wanted to hex Mrs. Longbottom now, even though he didn't know how. He decided to change the topic. "Listen," he said. "I have to tell you something. A secret. You musn't tell anyone, not even your Gran."

Neville looked a little nervous at that. "Okay, I won't. What is it?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, you know how I told you we'd go to the zoo for my birthday?"

"Of course. It's great, isn't it? It's one of the few places Gran takes me, and I really love it."

"I know, you said so. Do you like the inside exposition with all the smaller animals?"

"Yeah. I especially like the different rodents. Why?" Neville seemed confused.

"Well...the runespoor they have there caught my attention."

"The runespoor? Really? I always thought it was a little creepy..."

Harry grimaced.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"I kinda...well, I went to see it up close, and I heard it talk."

"What do you mean, talk?"

"Like, it was hissing and I understood what it was saying."

Neville stared at him, his eyes wide. "You're telling me that you're a Parselmouth."

"Yeah. I mean, that's how Alduin explained it, anyway. Don't tell anyone, like I said. He only allowed me to tell you because I promised you wouldn't. He says people are afraid of it."

"Yeah, I'd say so," Neville agreed weakly.

"But...I don't get it. Why?"

Neville sat down in the grass and frowned. "Didn't Alduin tell you that? Only Dark wizards are Parselmouths."

"Well, I'm not a Dark wizard!" Harry retorted, remaining standing.

Neville looked immediately guilty. "No, sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Other than you."

Harry nodded in acceptance of the apology and sat down as well. "Really?" He asked. "Which ones? Alduin only told me about Riddle. Was Grindewald one too?"

"No, or at least I've never heard about it, and you know my Gran teaches me modern history rather in detail. But I know Slytherin was one."

Harry frowned. "But, I mean...Slytherin wasn't a Dark wizard. I know he disagreed with Gryffindor on some things, and with the other founders as well, but that doesn't exactly make him Dark."

Neville furrowed his brow. "You're right...but I don't know of any other cases. Gran just told me that it was a Dark wizard skill. I'll have to ask her about it."

"Or maybe I'd better ask cousin Alexandra – I mean, I don't want to tip off your Gran...she sounds like she's exactly one of those people who are afraid of Parselmouths."

Neville grimaced. "I'm not sure I'd call it afraid exactly – she isn't afraid of many things – but you're right, she wouldn't be exactly thrilled you are one."

"You don't look too thrilled either!" Harry said a little snarkily.

"Are you?"

"Not when I see what a bother it is," Harry replied. It was rather irritating, too. He thought it was quite a cool skill...

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The pace of garden parties during the holiday months was something unmatched at any other time. Everyone wanted to make the most of their children being at home from school – and, as Alduin had said, the opportunity to show off with them. Apparently, there was a rule that children were not allowed to do magic during the holidays, but it was often flaunted at these parties, in the name of proving to your relatives that your child possessed the most magical talent.

There were at least two parties a week now where they were asked, and Harry was glad he wasn't supposed to go to the formal dinners the Traverses started giving now. That at least meant that during the evenings, he had a little quiet time for himself.

They had been at the Shacklebolts again, and the McMillans threw a party, and now there was another one at Malfoy Manor. Harry automatically headed in Draco's direction after arriving, to find Horatio and Theodore already there and in a lively discussion about some Shakespeare, for a change.

"What is it this time?" Harry asked.

Draco sniggered. "They're arguing about Horatio," he said. "The character from Hamlet, I mean. Theo says he's only there as foil for Hamlet, but Horatio is – obviously – defending him."

Harry wasn't really sure what foil was, so he just nodded noncommittally. "Have any of you started reading the books for Hogwarts yet?" He asked then.

Draco shrugged. "I took a look," he said, "but just skimming through, you know."

Harry grimaced. "My cousin is making me read them through," he said. "I understand it's important, but I mean...there's time enough for that at school, isn't there?"

Daphne appeared at this moment, looking a little harassed. "Oh, thank Merlin!" She said. "Some people with brains. I had to get away from the other group. I had to subdue Abdulaziz again – I swear, he gets on my nerves so much!"

"Hey!" Harry said, frowning. "Abdulaziz is my friend."

"Then tell him to stop treating my sister like she had spattergoit. Seriously. But I didn't want to interrupt you – what were you talking about?"

"Harry was complaining about having to study," Horatio said with a snigger, "so I'm not too sure about the whole 'with brains' thing."

"Oh, shut up, Yaxley," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "No one cares about you Ravenclaw pose."

"Are you sure you want to be in that house?" Horatio asked Theo. "Your brain will rot away there."

"But _everything else_ would rot away in Ravenclaw," Draco retorted.

"If that was a jab at my Quidditch skills, I assure you that I don't care about the stupid game one whit...Roger, on the other hand, is an expert flyer and would beat your ass any day."

"Well, Roger's even older than you are," Theo pointed out reasonably. "That wouldn't be exactly fair."

"There _could_ be a showdown between Marcus and Roger," Draco offered.

"Yeah, sure." Horatio said, and then added in an explanatory tone to Harry: "Marcus would have the advantage then – he's a year older than Roger, two years above us, and he's been playing on the team ever since second year."

"Why hasn't Roger been appointed to the team if he's so great, then?" Draco asked challengingly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd much rather go flying myself than argue pointlessly about whose team is the best."

"There is no need to argue," Draco sniggered. "The Slytherin one is the best. We won the cup last two years in a row, didn't we?"

"From what I know, that was only because that Weasley Seeker quit the team," Daphne muttered.

Draco gave her a look that clearly said 'traitor'.

"Why did he quit?" Harry asked with interest. He knew they were talking about Charlie, because Ron had boasted to him that his brother was an excellent Seeker.

Daphne looked uncomfortable. "I don't really know – it's not like I keep up with the Weasleys – but I've heard my cousin Aristotle complaining about it. That after Weasley did his OWLs, he quit the team to concentrate on 'what he really wants to do in life', as he had said."

"Oh, I see! It was because of the dragons!" At the others' questioning look, he elaborated. "Charlie Weasley left to work with dragons in Romania directly after Hogwarts. It must have taken a lot of preparation to get a place there, so he didn't have time for Quidditch. Dragons must be like the one thing that's cooler than flying."

"I hope one of the dragons eats him," Draco said nastily. Harry frowned at him. This was getting really irritating.

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In some ways, Alduin was really looking forward to harry being at Hogwarts. It would be one less thing to worry about.

He felt like he had no rest ever since he woke up from the coma, arranging his return to politics and society and reconnecting with friends and family, and preparing his wedding and caring for Harry...he really, really needed to rest and the postponed honeymoon was becoming a light at the end of the tunnel, a time when he would finally be away from it all for a time. Especially now, with news of Gringotts break-in and Harry as a Parselmouth, he needed it like never before.

He was not actually sure which of these two things worried him more. The Gringotts break-in made even people who generally assumed the war was over worry that Riddle was coming back, and for Alduin, it was very close to the final confirmation. On the other hand, he had known that would happen, so he was not exactly shocked, though he might well wish it took a little longer. However, it chiefly made him even more vigilant and careful of any other signs he should not miss.

Harry's unexpected skill, on the other hand...well. It could, of course, be an accident, but what were the odds? Alduin knew none of the Potters had this skill, and was almost certain Lily hadn't either. That Harry would suddenly develop the skill, when it was him who defeated Riddle...well, that was just a little suspicious, and gave Alduin all sorts of unpleasant ideas, ideas he firmly forgot himself to think about at the moment. Whatever it was, harry survived ten years with it. He would manage a month or two more, until Alduin had a little less on his plate.

At least the second formal dinner he was giving made him much less nervous, even though he was, by the guest list, making his anger with Jonathan Crouch effectively official. Had there not been that stupid stunt with Eliza just before the wedding, the obvious choice for the guests this time would have been the Ollivanders, the Crouches, the Shacklebolts and Mrs. Longbottom. As it was, the Crouches had been replaced by the Davies. The news of this were likely to travel fast, and hopefully it would finally manage to convince Jonathan that Alduin had been seriously displeased, when words apparently couldn't reach the desired result.

But perhaps the reason for his relaxed state was simply that both the Shacklebolts and the Ollivanders were very laid-back and pleasant guests, and the Davies were doing their best, aware of the unexpected honour they have been awarded by this early invitation. Not even Mrs. Longbottom could entirely ruin the scene, as much as she might try. In this, he was very thankful to Mrs. Graham Ollivander, who was closest to Mrs. Longbottom both in age and in character and evidently took it as her goal this evening to occupy the august lady's attention. It made him feel a little guilty, too – Mrs. Graham was Ginevra's mother, and Ginevra, of course, was one of those people who were pointedly not asked today. She really did not deserve this, and Alduin would have liked to see her, but he could hardly ask her without her husband, and given that Jonathan was precisely the person he had no interest in seeing...he'd have to ask Alexandra to ask Ginevra for tea some day soon, to make up for it.

Alexandra, he saw, was doing her best to be a proper hostess and not to spend all of her time by speaking to Patritia Ollivander. With how busy things had been lately, the two hardly saw each other, and Alduin found it likely that Alexandra missed her best friend during a time of so much transition in her life. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

But now was not the time, and he walked to where Mercurius was talking with his father and Kingsley. "Well of course field healing is always a little different," the youngest of the men was saying, "but a few herbs and potions can never hurt."

"Frankly," Kingsley replied, "I always feel it's just asking for trouble – you reach for the wrong bottle when in a hurry, and can end up doing a lot of damage. I mean, of course some potions you need to have – there's no substitute for blood replenisher – but the less, the better, to my mind. Just put yourself together quickly and get to hospital as soon as you can, that's my approach."

"And when you can't?" Alduin asked curiously, joining them. "I mean, for example in a war situation when the hospital is controlled by the enemy forces?"

"Do you know something we don't, Alduin?" Mercurius' father asked with a laugh, but it was clear that his mind went to the Gringotts break-in, as did those of the others.

"You set up your own hospital," Kingsley replied in all seriousness. "That's what we did in the last war. St. Mungo's was impossible to use towards the end, so we had our own makeshift ones, in safe houses. The rules stayed the same."

"That still requires a certain amount of support at your disposal, though. I mean, without wanting to downplay your fight in the slightest...basically the entire Auror section went undercover in the war, if I remember correctly. Hell, the entire ministry did. You can't always be assured of that, can you?"

"Hypothetically, no, but in practice, they'd have to kill off all of the Aurors before they cut away this avenue from us, I think. We are trained for the possibility that the ministry is taken down – Aurors have always been trained for that, and even more time is spent on it since the last war."

Alduin lowered his voice a little and asked: "And are you trained for internal threat as well?"

The small group exchanged looks. They all knew what he meant: there were many ex-Death Eaters who had the ear of the Ministry now, and if Riddle came back, it wouldn't be too hard to achieve some level of sabotage, probably.

"Not quite so well," Kingsley replied even more quietly, "which might or might not be an accident. But I think that's a topic for another day."

Alduin nodded. It was, however, a good piece of information to bear in mind when the war finally returned. To most, it was still a distant possibility, despite the recent news, but for him, it had only ended a year ago, and he wanted to avoid being lulled into calm as the others had been, if at all possible.


	30. The Woes of the Weasley Family

As had been promised over a month ago, the Traverses finally asked all of the Weasleys for afternoon tea. Harry was curious. He already knew Ron and Ginny, but now there'd be three new Weasley children for him to meet.

He watched them carefully as they entered the drawing room. The oldest was Percy, he knew. He seemed serious as he entered, and gawked at the parlour less that the two others did. Those were Fred and George, Harry knew as well, and Ron had warned him to watch out for them. "They sometimes play mean pranks," he had said. As they were apparently also the ones who told Ron about troll-wrestling at Hogwarts and who gave Roger and Horatio so much grief, Harry was on his guard indeed.

When they all sat down, Ron immediately started to talk about the latest Chudley Canons match to Harry, and it took the boy a few minutes to successfully get a word in. "I've heard you've been named a prefect, Percy," he said then. "Congratulations."

All of the younger siblings groaned, and Harry frowned.

"Thank you," Percy replied, a little pompously. Harry thought of Ernie McMillan, even though generally, Percy's mannerisms reminded him more of Edmund Crouch, in spite of the age difference. "It's a great responsibility, and I hope I won't disappoint the trust-"

"Yeah, yeah," one of the twins said, and Harry's frown deepened. "We've all heard it before."

"I haven't," Harry replied, then said: "And you two are on the Quidditch team, right?"

The other twin nodded. "It's a pretty good team, too," he said, "if only we had a decent Seeker. Two of our chasers left this year, too, so we'll have to replace them."

"Angelina said Alice was pretty good, though, didn't she? Maybe she could join in?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen her fly..."

Harry tried to direct the conversation somewhere more inclusive. "I've heard that you've had bad luck with Seekers ever since Charlie quit the team," he said.

"Yeah," one of the twins replied. "That tosser."

Percy frowned. "I think it was very responsible of him," he said, "and it shows very well that if you want to have a successful career, you need to make sacrifices."

The younger siblings rolled their eyes again. Harry was quite despairing of this visit.

Alexandra was talking to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, seemingly quite entrapped, but both Alduin and Mr. Weasley were watching the boys' conversation, making him rather nervous. He searched for a topic. "What do you think of the Gringotts break-in?" He asked at length.

"I think it's incredibly cool," one of the twins said. "I wonder how they did it."

Their elder brother frowned. "You really shouldn't say things like that," he said. "If a dangerous criminal is lurking in magical Britain, we all need to be on our guard-"

"Oh, come on, Perce, they say he didn't even steal anything! What kind of dangerous criminal is that?" The other twin said.

"Yeah," the first one added, "maybe he just wanted to show that he could do it, you know?"

He and his brother exchanged a look, and their father sighed.

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Alduin had known, when he asked Mrs. Longbottom for dinner, that it would mean enduring a formal meal in her home. The prospect was unpleasant, but it also filled him with a degree of morbid curiosity, wondering what kind of people would she ask to make up the rest of the party. He had expected her family, but it turned out he had underestimated her.

Augusta Longbottom asked the Weasleys.

And not just the couple and their eldest available son, either.

Mr. Weasley's two brothers were present, with their wives and two of their sons.

Wasn't it enough that he'd had the main branch over for tea just a few days ago? Alduin decided that she must be more angry about his Ravenclaw influence on Harry than she let on.

The Crabbes were there as well, and Alduin wondered what did _they_ do. Although, come to think of it, they we Slytherins, so that was probably enough in Mrs. Longbottom's books.

It was the first time in his life Alduin remembered seeking out a Crabbe at a party as the best possible conversational partner.

He and Alexandra both latched onto Dalilah Crabbe, and eagerly discussed the health of every member of her blood family – but then Mrs. Weasley joined them, and suddenly the prospects of Dalilah's sister and her husband having children any time soon were the center of attention.

„I certainly think she should, but when has she ever listened to me?" Dalilah said. "Still, she knows her responsibility, and I think she'll oblige the Proudfoots with an heir some time soon. I don't expect any more than exactly one son, though."

Alduin raised his eyebrow.

„What?" Dalilah asked sharply.

„Well, you yourself only have one child as well, do you not?"

„Yes, so?"

„So it surprised me that you were criticizing your sister for not wishing for more." In fact, he didn't think Dalilah had any right to criticize Yezabel in any matter at all. He desperately wished it was the younger sister who was related to the Longbottoms by her marriage. If the two sisters didn't look so similar, no one would have ever guessed they were related. But then, Dalilah seemed like a changeling compared to most of her blood family, to be honest.

„I wasn't," she replied now, and Alduin thought that on reflection, perhaps he should have tried his luck with the Weasleys straight out.

„It's always a difficult transition, is it not?" Alexandra interjected smoothly. „From childless to mother...I'm not surprised your sister takes her time in deciding."

„And you?" Dalilah asked. „Will you take your time as well?"

Alexandra smiled. „I do not intend to," she replied. Alduin judged it wise to kiss her hand at this point, for which she gave him a short but pointed look.

„And how's your family?" Dalilah continued, and Alduin left them to discuss this intriguing topic to go in search of Dalilah's mother-in-law, or grandmother-in-law. On the way, however, he was accosted by one of the Weasley wives. If he remembered correctly, it was the one that came with Lancelot, but he was honestly not sure. These women were too old to have gone to Hogwarts with him, and they were very much not from his circles.

„I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Travers," she said, „but I've heard that your hobby is transcendental sciences?"

„Yes?" Alduin said, giving her a surprised look.

„What exactly do you specialize in?"

„Time travel, and time paradoxes, and time in general."

„Ah...in that case, you're just the man I need. You see, I work at the Ministry in Accidents and Catasthrophes, and there is this issue we have been having..."

Alduin frowned. „Surely there are Department of Mysteries people who could help you? If you're dealing with a time travel accident, they are required to be involved by law, if I recall correctly."

„Yes, of course. But, well, I don't know how well you know the man who heads the Time section..." She trailed off.

„Wilters?" Alduin sighed. "Quite well...unfortunately."

Department of Mysteries was in a difficult position in this respect. By its nature, it required people passionate about the subject dealt with there, but there were not enough of those to man the institution. So in their place, technocrats with no true understanding of the matter were given jobs, and sometimes, as was the case with Wilters, they came to be in charge through their long years of service.

„Yes, well, then you know what I mean," she said with a small frown. "He gave me his most junior employee for the job, and it's impossible to get anywhere with that kind of help, or lack thereof. So I was wondering if you couldn't..."

Alduin nodded. „I'll give Croaker a Floo call, it's not a problem," he said.

She seemed surprised. „Oh...okay then."

„Isn't this what you were going to ask for?"

„I actually wanted to ask if you'd be willing to help us out, but well, if you have the kind of relationship with the department head to think that you can make something happen with a call, then by all means."

Alduin blinked. Class difference was staring him in the face, more starkly here, perhaps, than in the Burrow. Some things were just done differently in different spheres of society, it seemed.

„I know Croaker quite well, yes," he said. „He is part of a transcendental sciences group I meet every month to discuss new discoveries in the field. So I think it won't be a problem."

„Oh – that sounds like a very interesting group! Is it made up by workers from the Department of Mysteries?"

Alduin almost shuddered at the suggestion. „Oh no, only about half of us work there. The majority of the workers, I'm afraid, is rather like Wilters. They don't quite have the passion for their job that would make their membership in our little group meaningful."

„Still, I think it's great such networking places exist. Thank you so much for your help!" She smiled at him, and went in search of her husband.

Alduin stood in place for a moment, a little dumbstruck. He quite liked this woman, certainly more than he liked Mr. or Mrs. Weasley. But she was from a different sphere, no denying it.

Lost in though, he failed to notice the approach of Mrs. Longbottom. „Mr. Travers," she said, in her hard voice. „I've heard from Neville that you make Harry Potter read all of his schoolboooks through. Can't you give him a bit of a break even during the summer?"

„I wish for him to be well prepared," Alduin replied calmly.

„There are other things to prepare for at Hogwarts than studying!"

„And you think I'm neglecting them?" Alduin asked pointedly.

She thought about this. „Not exactly, no," she admitted grudgingly, „though I've heard about the frequent garden parties spent with the youngest Malfoy, don't think I haven't. It's disgraceful."

„Harry would hardly appreciate if I tried to limit who he talks to, and surely you cannot object to the company I did choose for him."

She harrumphed. „You could have warned him. Every decent family warns their children in such cases."

„They warn their children when said children are three or four years old, defenseless and too young to decide for themselves. Harry is eleven, and capable of his own judgment."

„His own! Ha." Mrs. Longbottom walked away, and Alduin reflected that she was sometimes too clever for her own good.

-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-

Harry was happy that, for all the formal dinners Alduin was now giving or attending, it didn't mean he forgot about the informal ones they used to have. As far as things to do on an evening went, talking to Abdulaziz was, to his mind, one of the pleasanter options.

"Are you nervous about Hogwarts yet?" The younger boy asked him, grinning.

Harry laughed. "The last time you asked me that was two days ago!"

"Well, you weren't then. Maybe you are now?"

"If I say yes, will you be happy and leave me be?"

"Come on, you can't be completely relaxed!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "The thing is, Neville is super nervous, so I just kind of spend so much of my time reassuring him that it's gonna be fine I don't have any time left to worry about it myself! Especially not with all the studying Alduin wants me to do at last minute."

Abdulaziz seemed excited, of all things. "Is he doing Hogwarts stuff with you?"

"Yeah...I mean, not the spells and potions, but all of the theory. He has help, too. Mrs. Bagshot Floo called a couple of times to talk about history – the bits that Alexandra doesn't know as much about – and Miss Brigit has been coaching me on Potions. Even for the rest, he sometimes takes me to the portrait gallery and gets some of the portraits to help. I feel like I could probably sleep through my first week of classes."

"Come on, it's super interesting! Magical theory must be great!" Abdulaziz was nearly bouncing in his seat.

"I dunno...I mean, I've read a book on that ages ago, when I first moved here, so that part is mostly just reviewing for me, so it isn't so bad...but the theory behind Transfiguration is enough to make my head hurt. And potions! There are so many names Miss Brigit wants me to memorize!"

Abdulaziz giggled. "Do you have flashcards?"

"How did you know?"

"I remembered Father telling me that your cousin always had flashcards at school, and that the best way to irritate him was to charm some of them to show something else."

"I don't see how that could irritate anyone," Harry muttered. "At least it would be more fun, if you could wonder if the next card was going to have a surprise on it..." He sighed. "My cousin insists I learn three new names per day. It's exhausting!"

Abdulaziz laughed at him. "Three?" He asked. "That's my usual load, and I'm not right before going to Hogwarts!"

"What, your Father is making you memorize names of potions ingredients as well?"

The younger boy shrugged. "It's different all the time. The last thing I did was learning to recognize different plants from pictures, but before that, it was important history dates."

"And to think my cousin told me that Ravenclaw was about wanting to really understand stuff, not just about memorizing it!"

Alduin, who had just broken away from his group and heard the last comment, smirked at this. "But you can't understand things without knowing at least some basic facts, Harry," he said. "How would you ever understand a book about potions if you had no idea what each ingredient was?"

"Besides," Mrs. Abdullah added, joining them, "facts are the building blocks of thought. With an empty head, you cannot come up with anything interesting."

"Yes, I know," Harry muttered, having heard all of this before. Alexandra seemed to take pity on him, and she said: "Try talking to the Ollivanders about this at some point. I believe they'd tend to agree with you."

Alduin chuckled. "True enough," he said, "Mercurius could never be forced to memorize anything at all. He was forever being teased for that by," and here Alduin paused for a moment, and his tone changed a little, "Eliza, and her cousin."

Mr. Abdullah gave Alduin a look Harry didn't understand, and then said: "And by you. Don't forget that part."

"Oh, I was never quite as merciless as the Crouches," was the more lighthearted reply.

"Because you had a soft spot for him," Mr. Abdullah retorted.

"A _soft_ spot? That's not _exactly_ what I'd call it," his wife muttered, and all the adults laughed.

Harry and Abdulaziz exchanged confused looks. 'No idea', Abdulaziz mouthed, but before Harry could ask what it was about, the dinner was announced and the thread of conversation was lost.


	31. The Journey from Platform 9 and 34

The holidays, Harry decided, had passed altogether too quickly. He was looking forward to Hogwarts, but still, the summer had been divine. His head was spinning from all the garden parties, he loved his afternoons with Neville more than anything, Ron turned out to be a very decent friend in time, and all in all, Harry had never been so happy before in his life.

Hogwarts was going to change his life, and for all his bravado in front of Abdulaziz, he was starting to feel a little apprehensive now that the time of departure approached.

The last evening of August, the Traverses took him aside. "We have an announcement to make, Harry," Alduin said. "Alexandra is expecting a child."

"Oh." Harry was taken aback. "When?"

"Oh, it will be a while," the lady in question smiled. "In fact, nobody else knows yet, but we wanted to tell you in person and by the time you come back for Christmas, everyone will know. So please keep it to yourself. We expect the birth at the beginning of April."

"Do you know if it is going to be a boy or a girl?" Harry asked, then hesitated. "Or is it too soon for that?"

"It is not too soon – with magic, you can know as soon as the child is actually conceived," Alduin explained, and Harry blushed at this. "It is a boy, and his name is Wynn, in my father's honour."

"Little Wynn..." Harry considered this. "Wait, you said the beginning of April? So by the time I come home for Easter, there might be a baby in the house already?"

"Given that Easter is relatively late this year, I should think very likely."

"Wow. That's...I mean, I don't have experience with small children. But it will be a little like having a much younger brother, won't it?"

"Very much like it, I imagine, though having no brother myself, I couldn't possibly confirm it."

"It's cool." Harry smiled. "I will be thinking of little Wynn."

"That is very nice of you, Harry," Alexandra said. "Is there something you want to ask about Hogwarts, before you go?"

"Hm, no, I think I got everything...we go by train from London, then there is the Sorting and then I just have to go to classes and try to earn points for my house..."

"And make friends," Alduin added. "That is one of the most important things one can do at Hogwarts."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't have expected you to say that," he said, "but I'll do my best! I will have Neville and Ron, in any case."

"Yes," Alduin said slowly, "but that is the beauty of Hogwarts, that you get to meet people you would not come across otherwise. In all likelihood, no one will ever replace the people who were your first friends in your regard, but being at school gives you the opportunity for broadening your acquaintance, you know."

"Okay," Harry said, contemplating this. "I guess it makes sense. So you're saying I shouldn't talk to just Neville and Ron?"

"Precisely. It's sometimes easiest and most comfortable, and I certainly don't begrudge you your best friends, but it's possible you'll never be in such diverse company again. Make the most of it."

Harry slowly nodded.

And then it was the first of September. He was woken up by Sibby as usual, and trotted down to breakfast. His trunk was packed, his new owl was in her cage, and a basket of food for his journey was prepared. In spite of knowing that, he ate as much bacon and eggs as he could. It was a long journey.

Alexandra laughed at him. "There is cake for your elevenses," she said, "and then roast beef sandwiches for lunch and some buns and jam and honey for afternoon tea. Oh, and pumpkin juice and tea, of course."

That really sounded like it should be enough, Harry had to admit.

At nine, they rose from breakfast and, dressed in Muggle clothing, gathered in the hall, from which Alduin Apparated Harry to Diagon Alley, with Alexandra at their heels. "Are we going to walk from here?" Harry asked.

Alduin chuckled. "I see we should have spent more time studying maps of London! No, it's too far to walk with luggage, especially given that you are carrying a cage with an owl and the Muggles would absolutely stare. I ordered us a cab."

 _Harry_ stared. "A Muggle cab?"

"Yes. In future, we will be Apparating directly to King's Cross, but we wanted you to experience this the traditional way on your first run."

They passed through The Leaky Cauldron and entered the waiting taxi. The driver gave them all very strange looks, but he did not say anything and within half an hour, they were at King's Cross, standing in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten. "Now remember what I told you, Harry," Alduin said. "Just pass through. Alexandra will go first."

She did, and Harry followed, a little nervous. But he had already seen much more admirable feats of magic than just passing through a wall, and so it did not cost him too much effort to believe that it could be done. And, just like that, he was there. He was at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Alexandra was waiting for him, smiling. "Come on, then," she said, when Alduin appeared after him. "The train is already here, let's find you a compartment."

It was ten o'clock exactly. They headed to the front of the train, where Harry choose the place he liked best and watched his trunk and Hedwig's cage being deposited. Afterwards, he followed the Traverses back to the platform. "I agreed to sit with Neville and Ron," he told them, "because Draco will inevitably be with Vince and Greg and Theo, and probably Pansy and Millicent will join them too, so it will be quite full already. The future Hufflepuffs will be sitting together too, I guess, so I imagine some other people might come sit with us, because it won't be that full. At least we will meet someone new that way, like you said."

Alduin nodded. "Important friendships are often made on the train," he said. "Now, remember what I told you. You should do fine in your classes, with the preparation I gave you. Stay away from Filch and Peeves, and if you need help, don't hesitate to ask for it, either the teachers of the prefects, or even ghosts and paintings, really. And you can always call me. Do your classwork properly and in time-"

Draco with his parents appeared in this moment, cutting off Alduin's recapitulation of all the advice he had given Harry already, several times in some cases. The boys chatted together excitedly, gradually joined by more of their future schoolmates. Neville arrived at about quarter to eleven, looking haunted. Harry took one look at him and said. "Come on, I will show you the compartment I picked."

He was saying goodbye to the Traverses when the hassled looking Weasley family emerged from the barrier. Harry let Neville direct Ron, well aware that the boy was glad for every excuse to be away from his grandmother today. She had been pestering him with tips about Hogwarts for the last two weeks, too, but hers were more along the line of 'try not to mess up too much,' which Neville found understandably tiring.

"Have a great time, Harry," Alduin was saying. "And do not hesitate to write us about anything, or even call us with that mirror. We want to hear everything about your time there."

"Yes," Alexandra agreed. "We miss Hogwarts, and want to remember it at least through you, even if you aren't a Ravenclaw."

"He should get in already," Alduin pointed out, and so Harry boarded the train and waved from the window, next to Ron and Neville, as the train began to move and gained speed, until the platform disappeared from sight.

The future Slytherins – or so they hoped - had taken the compartment just next and the Hufflepuffs were beyond them, Daphne changing places every hour or so, sometimes accompanied by Draco, so their end of train was occupied entirely by first years and it was a cheerful journey. They were several hours in when an unknown girl entered their compartment. "Hello," she said, "are you all first years? You look like ones."

"Yeah," Harry said, while the other two nodded.

"Me too," she said. "My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," the ginger boy said at the same time that Neville introduced himself. Then Harry joined in with his name.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

Harry was amused. "And you think that reading about someone in a book makes you know all about them?"

Hermione frowned. "Not really, I suppose – that's not what I meant. Just that I know about how you defeated Voldemort."

"Do you? Because I had some historians tell me no one has a clue." Ron sniggered, but Hermione ignored him.

"You know some historians?" She asked. "Magical ones, I mean? I'm really interested in history." She sat down without being asked.

Ignoring this disregard of manners for the moment, Harry said: "Yeah, I agree, it's cool. Anyway, yes, the wife of the cousin I live with is a historian, and she knows lots of other historians too, so they sometimes come over. And I met Bathilda Bagshot."

"The author of our history book? Really? You know her?" Hermione looked ready to swoon.

"Yeah, I went for tea to her house on Christmas, and she's Floo called us a couple of times since then. She was a really good friend of my cousin's great-grandparents or something like that, and she has known him ever since he was a little boy. She helped me prepare for Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'm so jealous! And your cousin's wife, what's her name?"

"Well, she's Mrs. Travers now, but just a couple of month ago, she was Alexandra Burke."

"Seriously?" Hermione actually jumped in her seat a little. "I think she is the author of one of the books I have! I will have to check, but...it has to be amazing to know all those people!"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, I think it sort of comes with the package of being a Ravenclaw, which my cousin and his wife both were. All those intellectual people know each other, it seems to me."

"Really?" Hermione frowned, and bit her lip. "Then maybe Ravenclaw is better...I mean, I have been thinking about the houses and I've been asking around, and I hoped I would be in Gryffindor, it sounded by far the best; I heard Dumbledore himself was in it. But if you say that being in Ravenclaw gets you an opportunity to know all these people..."

"None of us is going to disagree with you about Gryffindor being the best," Harry said, laughing, "because we all plan to go there. But if you're so interested in history, you probably should go for Ravenclaw. I should also tell you what my cousins told me – that History is taught in a terrible and really boring way at Hogwarts, and that you would do better to read the course book during the lessons than to listen to the teacher. My cousins made me a list of books I should read instead of the class and they want me to write them summaries."

"Better you than me," Ron muttered.

Hermione, on the other hand, was thrilled. "That's brilliant! I mean, it's bad if History is really taught so badly, but it's great your cousins try to mend that hole in our education. Could you share that list of books with me, please?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Harry paused, thinking that with Hermione in the compartment, there would never be a chance for a normal conversation with the boys again, and then said: "I have some friends in Ravenclaw, in the third year, maybe I could introduce you and you could ask them all about it?"

"Oh, thank you, that would be wonderful! You see, I don't know anyone magical at all, so it would really help."

Harry just hoped that Horatio Yaxley or Roger Davies were not one of those prejudiced people who had a thing against Muggle-borns. He remembered seeing Horatio at the other end of the same carriage, so he just walked Hermione there and, knocking lightly at the door of the compartment, opened it. "Hello," he said, sticking his head in. Horatio and Roger were sitting there with one boy and two girls he didn't know.

"Hello, Harry," Horatio said with a smile. "Can we help you?"

"Well, not me exactly, but..." He opened the door fully and gestured to Hermione. "This is Hermione Granger. She's going to be a first year, like me, and is deciding between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and seems to really reads lots and lots of books about history and things like that, so I thought Ravenclaw would be better for her, but maybe you could explain better...she doesn't know any witches or wizards, you see..."

Roger rolled his eyes and one of the girls sniggered, but Horatio gave them a measuring look. "Interested in books?" He asked, looking at Hermione. "What does that mean exactly?"

"Well," Hermione said, clearly nervous, "I haven't read as many wizarding books as I'd like to, unfortunately, what with knowing I was a witch only for a month or so...and I spent most of my time studying for Hogwarts I'm afraid..."

"What did you study?"

"Oh, all the textbooks – I mean, I didn't want to be behind, I'm sure you all already know these things, so I tried to memorize them as well as I could and I did some spells-"

"And did they work?"

"Oh, yes, all of them, as soon as I understood the theory-"

Horatio's eyes widened. "I think Ravenclaw is just the house for you," he stated. "Do sit down."

When Harry returned to his compartment, Ron said: "Thanks for getting us rid of that thing."

Harry frowned at him, and Neville said: "I think she is kind of impressive, really."

"Impressive, maybe. So are dragons, and I don't want one of them around." Harry couldn't help but laugh at this.

The train soldiered on as darkness fell outside, and Harry emptied his food basket with significant help from the other two boys and Daphne, and Draco and Theo, too, who came over for tea. And then the train was stopping, and there they were.

They got out to the platform and Harry spotted Hagrid's form towering over the crowding students. "Firs' years," he called, "firs' years, over here!"

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said, dragging Ron and Neville with him. "Thanks for the owl again."

"Yer welcome, Harry. Like I said, it was the least I could do. Now come on, firs' years, over here!"

Finally they were all gathered and could set off, on a dark path through a forest. Harry wondered why Alduin hadn't warned him about this - it was a bit of rough going, really, and Harry almost tripped several times in the dark. Neville did, more than once, and Harry and Ron had to catch him to prevent him from falling. Behind him, Draco was complaining in a low voice to Theo, and while Harry found it irritating at first and quite sympathized with Daphne, who'd told the blonde to be quiet several times from where she was walking behind him, after a while, even he began to wonder how much further it was. And then, a view suddenly opened before them, and he couldn't stop the low "wow" in reaction.

Hogwarts, he had to admit, was beautiful.

It was a castle with many towers, big and small, towering above a dark lake, the light in its windows glittering in the night. Magic seemed to weave around it like an invisible net, and Harry felt pulled towards it, as if this was the place where he'd always wanted to be.

He wondered how he would have felt is this was the first grand magical building he saw, because he was quite in awe even as it was. Hermione must be overwhelmed.


	32. The Sorting Hat

AN: Sorry for missing the last update without a warning, my conferenceholiday proved to be more exhausting that I expected, so I had no energy to post. The next one should go up as usual, meaning tomorrow.

-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-

Harry followed Hagrid further down the path and to a natural harbour with many boats docking it it. "Four to a boat!" Hagrid cried, and Harry got into one with Neville and Ron, Daphne joining them. He looked around at his future classmates boarding, and was amused to note that Hermione, looking very unsure, got into one with Pansy and Millicent. Hopefully Pansy wouldn't say anything too offensive for the duration of the ride, though perhaps that was too much to ask for.

They crossed the lake and climbed to the front door of the castle, and then Harry saw Professor McGonnagal for the first time.

He looked at Neville, while she seemed not to notice him at all. There was certainly no family likeness. "Why doesn't she greet you?" Harry muttered to him as they went inside. "I mean, Hagrid greeted me, and he barely knows me."

Neville shook his head. "She wouldn't do that," he said. "Gran warned me to expect her to treat me just like she would any other student. I think I prefer it that way, really."

They were all marched into a small room, but Harry was only half-listening to what Professor McGonnagal was saying. He prefer to examine his future schoolmates, those he didn't know, now that there was finally enough light to do so. There were two Indian girls, identical twins, standing across from him, and a boy with sand-coloured hair and one very tall black boy next to them. He also noticed one Chinese looking girl further back, standing next to a girl with long blond hair, and behind them was a black-haired boy and a boy that looked Italian or Spanish or something like that.

He was distracted from further observation when a group of ghosts entered the room via a wall, arguing. It took them a moment to notice the first years, and before proper conversation could be started, Professor McGonnagal reappeared and led the students to the Great Hall.

It was a little daunting to be standing in front of all these older people, and Harry was relieved when he heard he would only have to put a hat on his head. Really? This was the secret everyone was guarding so carefully? It seemed a little ridiculous, but he was relieved nevertheless, and he settled down – as much as he could while still standing in front of hundreds of people – to watch the Sorting.

Susan and Hannah both got their desired place in Hufflepuff, and then two first-years Harry didn't know were sorted into Ravenclaw. The blond girl he noticed before was the first to go to Gryffindor, and Harry looked at her with more interest, contemplating his – hopefully – future housemate, one Lavender Brown. Millicent went to Slytherin after a slight hesitation on the Hat's part, and the black-haired boy Harry noticed before joined Ravenclaw ranks. Then it was one unknown boy for Hufflepuff, and Vince went to Slytherin, as well as a girl Harry didn't know who was just after him. Then one more Ravenclaw, and the first Hufflepuff boy – Justin something, the name was, and Harry looked at Ernie to see how he liked his future housemate. The sand-haired boy was called Seamus and went to Gryffindor, and then it was one unknown boy for Ravenclaw and Gregory for Slytherin. After him, it was Hermione Granger's turn.

She sat on that stool for a very long time, but in the end, she was sent to Ravenclaw. Ron next to him seemed to exhale in relief, and Horatio waved at her from his place at his House's table, and she slid in next to him, smiling.

It took almost as long as with Hermione, but Daphne went to Slytherin in the end, and then there were two new Hufflepuffs, and the Chinese girl, headed to Ravenclaw. Neville went to Gryffindor after only a short deliberation on the Hat's part, and Harry smiled at him cheerfully. It was looking good – everyone seemed to be getting what they wanted.

After him, there was an unknown Ravenclaw and then Ernie for Hufflepuff and Draco for Slytherin, followed by Theo and Pansy. The twin girls went one to Ravenclaw and the other to Gryffindor, surprising Harry a good deal – he would have expected them to be in the same house. The one who went to Gryffindor was called Parvati, if he remembered correctly. Perks, Sally-Anne went just before him and was sent to Hufflepuff, and suddenly it was his turn.

People were whispering and staring at him, so he took refuge in the darkness of the hat. "Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either, and recently honed quite nicely. There's talent, my goodness, yes — and even some thirst to prove yourself… So where shall I put you?"

"Well, I was thinking I liked Gryffindor best," Harry replied in his thoughts.

"Are you sure?" The Hat asked. "You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that."

Harry mentally shrugged. "I wouldn't mind," he said, "but I'd really rather be in Gryffindor. I just prefer to use their methods when I can."

"Well, if you're sure-" the Hat replied. "Gryffindor!"

Harry took the Hat off and went to join his new table, feeling happy. He sat down next to Neville, opposite the boy he didn't know, Seamus. "Hey," he said. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I know," the boy replied, then blushed a little. "Sorry. My name's Seamus. Seamus Finnigan."

Neville introduced himself, too, and they turned their attention back to the Sorting in time to see new girl head to their table. Harry hadn't noticed her before, and they did not catch her name, so Harry resolved to ask later and to pay more attention now, which paid off as the black boy, who was apparently called Dean Thomas, headed to their table too, sitting down next to Seamus.

Then there was one more unknown girl for Ravenclaw, and Ron joined the Gryffindor ranks too, smiling happily and sitting on the other side of Harry. They barely noticed the Italian-looking boy going to Slytherin, because they started to talk immediately – only to be interrupted by Albus Dombledore standing up.

Harry looked at him curiously. He had heard so much about this man, and so many conflicting things! He was curious to see what he was really like.

"Welcome," the Headmaster said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry stared. That did not match with what he knew about the man at all. He would have to ask his cousin about that.

"Is he a bit bonkers?" Dean asked uncertainly.

"Bonkers?" Percy Weasley, who was sitting nearby, said airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

Harry thought that _that_ fitted very well with the devotion of Gryffindors to their hero that Alduin had described to him, and noticing that the food finally appeared, he got busy with putting some on his plate to avoid having to answer to that.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff Harry had already seen in the small room sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Do you still miss it?" He asked.

"Yes, even after nearly five hundred years. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

Harry couldn't prevent himself from rolling his eyes. "I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Seamus interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked irritated, and with a good reason, Harry thought. "Like this," he replied, took hold of his left ear and pulled. His head tried to fall of his neck, but couldn't quite manage, hanging on a small transparent bit of skin. Apparently, his beheading had been mangled. "So — new Gryffindors!" Sir Nicolas said, after putting his head back on. "I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year! Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a scary-looking ghost there. Draco was sitting next to him and looking very uncomfortable. Harry winced in sympathy.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

Harry turned to the first-year girl whose name he didn't know and who was sitting at the other side of Seamus, and said: "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

She smiled brightly at him. Her entire face, which seemed rather ordinary otherwise, came alive at that. "Oh! Hello," she said. "I'm Sophie Roper. This place is amazing, isn't it?"

"Absolutely!" Harry agreed enthusiastically. "I mean, the stories really don't do it justice, do they?"

"Well, I wouldn't know that – I never heard any stories, because I don't know anyone who went to Hogwarts!"

"Oh, you're from a Muggle family? Then it must be doubly impressive."

"You bet! You're from a family of wizards?"

Ron turned to her, astonished. "You don't know who he is?" He asked.

"Where would she know it from, seeing she is Muggle-born?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone is like Hermione Granger."

"And thank Merlin for that," Ron added.

Harry turned back to Sophie and said: "My dad was a pureblood-"

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, sorry. It means all of your grandparents were wizards, basically. Anyway, he was a pureblood, but my mum was Muggle-born like you. They are both dead, though, and I was raised first by my mother's sister and her husband, who are Muggles, and then by my cousin and his wife, who are purebloods."

"So you kinda know both worlds...that's cool!"

"I never looked at it like this, but yeah, you're right."

"And what about you?" Sophie turned to the remaining first-years.

"All my family are wizards," Ron replied. "Or, well, I think my mum has a relative who is an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"The same with me," Neville added.

"I'm half and half," Seamus joined the conversation. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

Everyone else laughed, and Dean said: "I'm like Sophie, no wizards anywhere in the family."

Harry tried to turn to the other two girls, Parvati and Lavender, to ask about them, but they were sitting too far away and so he concentrated on his food and let the conversation flow.

When he was full and his plate was empty, he looked towards the High Table, going over the people who would be his teachers from tomorrow on. So he already knew which was Dumbledore and McGonnagal, and he had met Snape and Hagrid, of course. The short man had to be Flitwick – his cousins had told him a lot about their old head of house. Then there was a number of witches Harry had no idea about, one man with lots of scars, and a man with a turban of all things. The moment Harry concentrated on him, he felt a sharp pain in his scar. "Ouch!" He said, surprised and unable to control himself.

"What is it?" Neville asked worriedly.

"Nothing, my scar just suddenly hurt. It's gone now, though." He shrugged.

"Does that happen often?" Neville questioned with a frown.

"No – this is the first time I can remember it happening, actually," Harry replied, thinking about it.

"That's strange," Neville said. "Curse scars don't just start hurting for no reason at all." His frown deepened. "I wonder...I mean, sometimes it can be sign of some residual dark magic in it coming to life or something, from what my Gran told me. Maybe you should have somebody look at it."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to make a fuss..."

"Harry...what if it's something dangerous?" Neville seemed really insistent.

"Okay, I'll mention it in a letter to my cousin, I'm sure he'll know what it is. Happy?"

Neville reluctantly nodded. "Do you know who's the teacher in the turban?" Harry changed the topic.

Percy, who heard his question, answered: "That's Professor Quirrell. He will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

Harry wanted to ask more, but at that moment, Dumbledore stood up and the hall went silent. "Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," he said. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

The last sentence was said with as much seriousness and calm as the ones before. Harry exchanged an incredulous look with Neville and Ron. What was this about?

Sophie laughed at Headmaster's statement, but quickly went silent when she notices no one else was doing so. "He is actually serious?" She asked.

"It seemed like it..." Harry said slowly.

"Wow." Sophie paused, and then said with a grin. "This is definitely so much cooler than if I had gone to Manchester High!"

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AN: About Hermione's sorting, I already said so in some of the review responses: I'm firmly of the belief that at this point, she was more of a Ravenclaw than a Gryffindor (though not a "perfect" one – her down-to-earth nature is more of a Hufflepuff quality), and she developed her Gryffindor qualities more strongly in time by her association with them, and Harry.


	33. Owl Post

The Gryffindors had to go through Peeves to get to their House that first evening, and then Kiara took Harry aside once they were in the cozy common room to congratulate him on his Sorting, so he was dead tired when he finally got to his dormitory. But he had promised his cousin he would write the evening after Sorting and had explicitly instructed Hedwig to fly to his bedroom so that he could send the letter. Seeing her there now, he sighed and sat down to work.

 _Dear cousin,_

 _Hogwarts is wonderful so far. I have been sorted into Gryffindor, but then, we all expected that, didn't we? Ron and Neville are both here with me, along with a bunch of people I have only just met – Seamus, Dean, Sophie, and the last two girls were Parvati and Lavender, I think. Sorry, I know you would be interested in the surnames, but I don't remember them! Maybe in the next letter._

Here Harry hesitated, but then continued.

 _There was a couple of strange things happening at the welcoming feast. For one, Headmaster announced that if we went into the third floor corridor on the right side, we would die a very unpleasant death. He didn't sound like he was joking either. It's a bit strange, isn't it? No one seemed to know what it was about, not even the prefects._

 _And the other thing, well, I wouldn't bother you with this if Neville hadn't said it was kinda important...but my scar started to hurt quite strongly out of the blue when I was sitting at dinner. It stopped almost immediately, but still, I don't remember it ever happening before. Do you have any ideas what could be behind it?_

 _Give my greetings to cousin Alexandra and little Wynn, and I hope you are well,_

 _Harry_

He tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and patted her head before carrying her to the window and letting her go. Then, he gratefully fell into bed.

He dreamed of Professor Quirrell's turban whispering strange things to him as his scar hurt, and Alduin suddenly appearing to say: "Oh Harry! Haven't I told you a thousand times? Never look at men with strange head-coverings! Terrible things happen to those who do! Alexandra read so in one of her history books." Harry wanted to protest that no, he had never got that particular warning, but he couldn't talk in the dream. He was rather grateful when it changed to simple dragons chasing him, even though he remembered neither part in the morning.

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The next morning, all the Gryffindor first-year boys came down to breakfast together, and even managed without getting lost too much, thanks to Neville's idea of asking the portraits for the way. The girls were already there, Sophie yawning widely. "Aren't you tired?" She asked them accusingly.

"Not anymore, but I was dead on my feet last evening," Harry replied, then turned to Lavender and Parvati. "I don't think I've introduced myself yesterday. Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

They all exchanged their names, and were chatting lively by the time Professor McGonnagal came over to them with their new timetables. Harry checked his impatiently. They were to start with Transfiguration, which Neville said was her class, and then there would be Charms – this time, it was Harry who knew they were taught by Professor Flitwick. After lunch, they had Defence with Professor Quirell, which made Harry feel a little nervous even though he told himself it was silly, and ended with Herbology. Neville was really excited about that, and soon got everyone else caught up in it a little – everyone besides Parvati, who did not seem to like the idea of mucking about in dirt too much, even if it involved flowers.

They were getting ready to get up and go to class when Harry felt his two-way mirror grow warm in the inner pocket of his robes. Curious, he took it out and found his cousin's face looking at him. "Do you have a moment, Harry?" He asked.

"Sure, we were just about to head to class, but we have time..."

"That's fine, you can talk to me on the way, at least it will be more quiet than the Great Hall!"

So the Gryffindors got up and left, and Harry asked his cousin: "What's the matter?"

"Well, your letter raised some questions, so I thought it best to answer them this way. First, about your scar. Do you remember what you were doing when it started hurting?"

"Yeah...I was done eating, and I was looking at the High Table. I was just thinking about Professor Quirell and his turban when my scar hurt."

"Hm. Quirell. Very well. As for the third-floor corridor, I don't like it at all. Do not under any circumstances try to open the door leading there, but if you could try to listen at it or look through the keyhole, it would be helpful for determining what is there and how dangerous it is. I don't like asking this of you, but I like not knowing even less."

Harry grinned at that. He didn't doubt it in the slightest. "It's not a problem," he said. "Will do. Say hello to cousin Alexandra."

"I will, and you say hello to Neville and Ron from me. Have a great first day of classes, Harry!"

And with that, Alduin's face was gone.

Back at the Travers Manor, however, he frowned. Quirell now...he would have to find out what he could. He did not like this – he did not like this at all.

He sighed. He did not have the time to deal with this now – the last several months have been hectic, and he had been looking forward to Harry being at Hogwarts, because it would mean much more free time for him. He decidedly did not need any weirdness happening at school.

They dined with the Shacklebolts the evening of the day Alduin had received this message, and Alduin used this opportunity to discreetly consult Kingsley on the matter. "I quite agree with you," the man said, "I don't like it. I'm no scientist as you know, so I can't offer you any explanations, but I absolutely agree that it bears watching. Both the scar and Quirrell."

Yes, that was rather what Alduin had been afraid of. He wanted to consult the matter with more people, but the ones who he could trust were few and far between. Short visits to Abdullah and Mercurius before leaving for the postponed honeymoon were probably indicated. And once away from Britain, Alduin would use that time to think about the matter in detail.

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During the first day of classes, Harry had the opportunity to find out that Prfoessor McGonnagal was strict, Professor Flitwick was strangely excitable (seriously, squeeing when he read his name? He would have to ask his cousin about that), Professor Quirrell stuttered something dreadful and Professor Sprout was a very kindly woman. He also sort of understood why Neville liked Herbology – in that class, Harry at least felt he did something. His efforts in Transfiguration had been completely useless, even though he had earned some points for knowing the theory.

Herbology was also nice because they got to see someone else apart from their Gryffindor group in that class. Harry was surprised to meet the Hufflepuffs there, before he remembered Alduin telling him that Herbology was a shared class, like Potions.

"Hello," he said, nodding to Hannah, Susan, Ernie and Zach.

They all returned his greeting, and Ernie pointed to the boy standing by his side. "This is Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said.

Harry introduced himself and Neville and Ron, who had walked down to the greenhouses by his side, followed. They all shook hands. "How was your first day?" Harry asked the Hufflepuffs.

"Scary," Hannah muttered. "We had Potions in the morning, and Professor Snape is terrifying."

Harry frowned. "Really?" he asked. "I met him and – well, I mean, he isn't the pleasantest person ever, I guess, but he didn't seem really terrifying."

"Well, you're a Gryffindor," Ron muttered, and Harry rolled his eyes as Zach made a rude sound, this time quite deserved.

"While I would not use such strong words as Hannah," Ernie said in his usual pompous tone, "I certainly agree that it was very impressive and dramatic. There was this speech at the beginning of class..."

"I didn't like him much either," Susan confessed. "Like Ernie said, he was just so dramatic. The other teachers don't seem to do that, do they?"

All of this made Harry wonder about their first Potions class very much. Most of his thoughts, however, were occupied by the third-floor corridor, and after Herbology was done, all of the Gryffindor first-years headed there do do what Harry's cousin had asked them to. He'd briefed them on the matter in the morning before classes, and now Neville, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender kept a watch-out for teachers and the caretaker, while Harry, Ron, Dean and Sophie approached the door. "Can you hear anything?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah...it sounds kinda like growling, doesn't it?" Sophie muttered.

Ron agreed. "I bet they have some sort of animal in there."

"All right, let's try the keyhole." Harry bent down, but to his disappointment, found that the corridor behind was completely dark. "Oh well," Ron said, shrugging, "at least you have something to tell your cousin."

Harry nodded, but he was feeling disappointed and hesitated writing home with such meagre findings.

The next morning, however, he received a letter from Alexandra. She wrote that since he spoke with Alduin yesterday, she though that she would write the first letter instead, and told him all about their planned honeymoon. It certainly merited an answer, and since he was writing already, Harry included that little tidbit at the end of the letter he wrote in the evening, the majority of which was devoted to his complaints about the boring history teacher, of whom he had just had his first experience. His cousins certainly hadn't exaggerated on this score, and after having them teach him history for some time the contrast was almost painful. He was also, unexpectedly, missing Mrs. Bagshot.

Harry had now experienced every class except for Potions and Astronomy. He wasn't particularly excited about the second, but the first made him curious. Thinking on the way from class on Wednesday, after his expectations being confirmed in History and his disappointment in Defence, he decided that out of the classes he already had, his favorite was probably Charms. Professor Flitwick got over his squeaking and seemed a good teacher, and they have already managed to do colourful sparks in his class, which while not much compared to the magic he had seen adults do was still pretty cool in Harry's books, on account of being the first actual intentional magic he had ever done.

Defence, on the other hand...Professor Quirrel's stutter didn't get better with time, and neither did he start seeming less weird. Harry had felt another pang of pain in his scar in that class once, though weaker, and it made him very uncomfortable. And really, the classes were a joke. They had had two so far, and both made Harry feel that he'd be much better off reading the book. He considered the matter of writing to his cousin to tell him about it. No doubt he would be given more reading, like he had in history. The problem was, he kind of wanted the tips for the books – he just wished he didn't have to write the summaries. It was too exhausting.

"Earth to Harry," Sophie said next to him, with a laugh.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Oh, right, sorry."

"What were you thinking about?" Neville wondered.

"The classes. Defence really is a joke, isn't it?"

"Not sure about Defence, but Quirrell totally is," Ron said.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. It's really irritating, though – I mean, it's super important, isn't it?"

"Well, they say there's a new Defence teacher every year," Ron commented, "so at least we won't be stuck with this one for too long."

Sophie groaned. "A year? That's forever!"

"Better then seven," Neville summed it up succinctly.

"Why is there a new teacher every year?" Dean asked curiously.

Ron took on an important expression. "They say the position is cursed," he said. "No one can last longer, for one reason or another."

"Do things like this actually happen?" Sophie asked. "I never know what is just Muggle stories and what is real."

"It happens," Neville confirmed seriously, "but it's really hard to do. Whoever did the cursing must have been really powerful."

"Well, obviously – I mean, otherwise Dumbledore would have broken the curse, right?" Seamus pointed out.

"Right," Ron agreed.

Harry considered this. "Do we know how long has the curse been on the job?"

"Well, it's already been a thing when my parents were at school," the red-headed boy replied.

"Oh."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, It was just an idea."

"What was?"

"Well, I was thinking, who is so powerful that Dumbledore couldn't break the curse? And I thought of Riddle...but if the curse is this old, it must have been someone else."

"Riddle?" Seamus asked, uncomprehending.

"Oh, right. Um...that's You-Know-Who's given name, but it's kinda secret, so...please don't tell anyone? I'm just so used to calling him that way, it slipped out, but it could get you in trouble if you said it in public."

Seamus looked worried now. "You know his name, and how old he was?" He asked, surprised.

"Not really how old he was, no – but the war started at the beginning of the seventies, didn't it? So I don't think if he was powerful enough to do stuff like that already ten years before that, he'd have started the war straight out otherwise, wouldn't he have?"

"I guess," Seamus replied, still not looking quite himself.


	34. Snape's Grudge

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The first week at school came to a close more quickly than Harry would have thought possible. He loved Hogwarts and loved that he was now able to spend so much time with Neville and Ron. He saw Kiara all the time as well, of course, in the Gryffindor common room, but she had her own friends and they usually only greeted each other, sometimes asking about the day they had. With Horatio and Roger, Harry only had time for nods of recognition when they passed each other in the corridors, and he hadn't got to talking to Draco or other Slytherins much more either.

The other Gryffindor first years, on the other hand, were often around, especially the other boys, and also Sophie. She seemed to prefer spending time with them to Parvati and Lavender, who tended to stay a little apart. When Harry asked her about not hanging out with them, she shrugged. "I don't mind them or anything, I just can't seem to find anything to talk about with them, I guess? I have four brothers," she added. "I've always hung out with them. Maybe I'm just not used to girls."

"Your brothers aren't wizards?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Well, the older ones aren't, anyway," she replied, "but then again, they have a different father than me, so maybe that's not so strange? We'll see when Nick turns eleven, he's my dad's son too."

"So, you have one younger brother and three older ones?" Inquired Neville, trying to make a sense of it.

"Nah, two older ones and two younger ones. Nat and Sam are thirteen and sixteen, and then Nick is nine and Mike is five. I don't have much hope for him, though – doesn't seem like his dad could have any wizard blood in him."

Ron seemed scandalized when he realized the situation in Sophie's family, and Harry, thinking about what Aunt Petunia would say and that she would probably agree with Ron, quickly tried to turn the conversation. "You never know," he said, "I wouldn't think my aunt could have anything wizarding in her at all, and still, her sister was a witch!"

Neither Ron or Neville seemed to understand how someone could seem to be a wizard or not, and so Harry decided to change the topic yet again. "So what do you reckon Potions will be like?" He asked. "The last class we don't know about yet..."

"Well, you know what the Puffs said. And my brothers all say Snape's terrible and always gives Slytherin preferential treatment!" Ron said, grimacing.

Harry shrugged. "I've met him, like I told you, and he didn't seem so bad. Not so great-tempered, so I think it would be better not to provoke him, I guess...especially for me, since even though he was friends with my mum, I know he really disliked my dad."

Sophie frowned: "Do you think he would take it out on you?"

Neville and Harry exchanged a look. Given what they knew about Snape's past, that was the least of many possible issues with him, and Alduin had basically warned him it was possible. Harry also wanted to say that his aunt apparently hated his mother and always took it out on him, but conscious of the fact that he was not meant to talk about that, he merely said: "I'd rather not test it, that's what I'm saying."

At this moment, the post came. Hedwig brought Harry a letter from his cousin, and a school owl dropped him one with an unknown handwriting on the top. He opened it first, and inside found a letter from Hagrid, asking him to come over for tea in the afternoon.

"Can I come with you?" Ron asked immediately.

Harry stared for a moment. Every time he felt like Ron's manners improved, his friend came up with a proof that he had a long way to go yet. It was a little mysterious to Harry, given that he had been able to pick these basic in half a year. But then, it had been half a year of rather intensive coaching.

Neville was taken aback too, but he saved Harry the necessity to answer by saying: "Er, Ron, he didn't invite you, did he? I think it would be a little rude."

"I can ask him if I can bring you with me next time," Harry said quickly. "Assuming, of course, that he'll ask me again."

Neville gave him a look. "Harry, you would probably have to intentionally smash their furniture for people who once started asking you to suddenly stop. It's just not done except for serious offences."

Harry knew that, really, but it still seemed a little presumptuous to him to just count on it. He knew that Neville wouldn't understand, though, and so he turned his attention to Alduin's letter instead, after sending a quick reply to Hagrid.

The others were curious to hear if it said anything new about the third floor corridor issue. "Not really," Harry said. "He just says that there are spells we could use to see through the door, but that we wouldn't probably be able to cast them yet, and that he will write to me about them when it seems to him that we're far enough in our Charms work."

"Cool," Sophie commented. "I really wanna know what's inside."

The others nodded, though Harry was a little bothered by his cousin's obvious preoccupation and contemplated it all the way down to the dungeons.

Most of the Slytherins were already there, waiting in front of the classroom. Harry nodded to the ones he knew – he could see Draco with Vince and Greg, and Millicent was standing with Pansy, who seemed to be saying something rude about the Gryffindors to her friend just at the moment, by the look on her face. Harry did his best to ignore her and instead greeted Theo, who was just coming through the corridor behind them. When he turned back, Draco gave a meaningful look to Ron next to him, to which Harry just rolled his eyes. Before Draco had time to react to that, the classroom door opened and Snape sent them all in.

His welcoming speech was damn impressive, Harry had to admit that, and he was still a little dazed when Snape turned to him and asked: "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry frowned. He was sure they have covered this with Miss Brigit, but he couldn't for the life of him think of the answer. Irritated with himself, he said: "I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know. I mean, I think it's some kind of a sleeping potion, but I'm not sure, and in any case I don't know which."

"Hmm. Let's try again, then. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

That Harry did know, and relieved, replied: "In a goat's stomach, sir."

"Very well, then. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Try to remember it in the future. Now, let us start with actual potions work..."

Actual potions work, as it turned out, was Snape setting them ingredients to prepare and then circling the room and checking their work. "Longbottom," he said, stopping over their table and sneering down at Neville. "Is this what you call evenly cut roots?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Neville muttered. Harry glanced at his roots. They were a bit of a mess, he had to admit.

"One point from Gryffindor," Snape stated. "Throw them away and start anew."

Harry frowned, and next to him, Ron hissed. "How is that fair?"

"Well, it was you who said Snape was terrible," Harry pointed out in a whisper. He didn't like it either – he was pretty sure that Vince's roots didn't look any better, yet Snape showed no desire to penalize his house. It seemed there was some truth in what Ron's brothers have said.

"I'm just so damn clumsy," Neville muttered. "Always have been. If Potions require precise handwork, I'm lost." He sighed. "I was really interested in them, too! I mean, they're almost like Herbology..."

"Maybe I could cut your roots for you?" Harry offered.

"I doubt Snape would let you, mate," Ron muttered.

"Still, this is irritating. Neville knows so much about plants, I bet he could be a great potion-maker if it wasn't for his two left hands..." Harry trailed off, thinking about writing home to ask Miss Brigit for tips. There must be some way to deal with the problem.

Harry was distracted from thinking about it by Draco, who motioned him to his side as soon as the class ended. Harry nodded to Neville and Ron to indicate he'd see them at lunch, and bid goodbye to Theo and Daphne in passing, too. He'd have liked to talk to them more, but Draco was all but dragging him away. "Why do you have to talk to Weasley so much?" Was his first question.

Harry sighed. "Draco, you know I've been seeing him regularly at the Manor since spring."

"Yeah, but like, once a week or something, right? Now every time I see you, you have him around. How can you stand it? He's so stupid!"

Harry looked at him. "Er," he said, "if you think that's a problem, care to explain why you talk to Vince and Greg? They're not exactly the brightest stars out there." Harry felt guilty as he was saying so, but it was true. He had nothing against the two boys, but it was very hard to talk to them.

Draco frowned. "All right," he said, "that's a good point. Though they at east keep mostly silent."

"Well, contrary to Ron, they're actually stupid, you have to admit that much," Harry replied, his guilt deepening. This whole conversation was extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm not admitting anything of the sort!" Draco said hotly.

Harry used the opportunity to correct himself. "Look, I don't mean to badmouth Greg or Vince, really. They're fine. All I'm trying to say is, Ron might not be as smart as Theo or Horatio, but he's just as clever as I am – for example, did you know he is excellent at chess? It's just that he isn't well-mannered and he doesn't care about school and books much, or anything of the sort."

"Isn't that kind of worse than if he was just stupid?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised.

Harry considered this, sort of regretting he had ever complained to Draco, however little, about his Gryffindor friends' lack of interest in history or reading. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe. It's really not his fault, you know...I blame his parents."

"I'm completely with you on this one, even though the Weasley prefect still manages to act sort of decent."

Harry thought about it. "Well, he was only the third son, and it was before the twins were born, and he is actually over three years younger than Charlie, if I remember what Ron told me right. I think his parents had more time for him than they had for Ron. From what I've been able to understand, the older children are much more..hmm...'fit for society' is I think the term my cousin used."

Draco seemed to be trying to find a way to blame Ron's shortcomings on him all the same, but in the end, he just said: "Why are we talking about the Weasleys, anyway?"

"Well, you started it!"

"And now I want to end it!" Draco paused. "How do you like Hogwarts?" He asked then, and they spent the rest of the way to the Great Hall sharing their impressions.

After lunch, Harry went to answer Hagrid's invitation. The groundskeeper, it turned out, owned a large dog and made rock-hard cakes which he offered his guest as he asked about his first week of school.

"It was fun," Harry said. "I like being here with so many of my friends. Professor Binns is a terrible bore though!"

Hagrid chuckled. "That he is," he agreed. "But knows his stuff, I suppose."

"Hmm. I guess. I also didn't like how Professor Snape treated Neville."

"Why, what did he do?"

Harry thought about how to describe that particularly offensive behaviour. "He just kinda picked on him, even though some Slytherins were doing equally bad work."

"Well, he does take the side of his House," Hagrid admitted grudgingly.

"I wouldn't mind so much if he just took that one point," Harry continued. "But he was being a little mean, you know?"

Hagrid sighed and patted his dog, Fang. "Maybe it was a bad day for him?" He said, not sounding convincing in the slightest.

Harry looked away, not wanting to argue, and noticed a newspaper cutting on the table, its corned sticking out from under a tea cozy. It was about the break-in at Gringotts. "Why are you keeping this, Hagrid?" He asked idly, playing with it. It wasn't like there was any worthwhile information in it, just a very basic article of few sentences.

Hagrid avoided his eyes and didn't answer for a long time, creating suspicions that would have never occurred to Harry otherwise. "Just thought it was inetrestin', that's all," he said at length, but it was even more unconvincing than his statement that Snape was just having a bad day.

Harry wondered about it all his way up to the castle, thinking about what it could mean and whom to tell. Once seated down at the evening meal, he motioned for Neville and Ron to lean in and told them the story. "You don't think Hagrid could have anything to do with it, do you?" He asked.

Ron shook his head. "Harry, I'm sure Hagrid is great – I've heard a lot about him from my family – but I doubt he would be good enough to manage to break into Gringotts. It's insanely difficult."

"But why keep the cutting, then?"

"Perhaps he is in it from the other side," Neville suggested. "You know, maybe he's been robbed?"

Harry thought about it. "I'm not sure Hagrid would have anything valuable enough to merit a Gringotts break-in...I mean, he lives in a wooden cabin and all that..."

The others agreed that it was unlikely and they continued speculating. Harry was glad to have something interesting to write home about.

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Alduin Travers was worried, there was no question about it. Harry's scar hurt when he looked at Quirell, there was some growling deathly danger at Hogwarts (why not keep it in the forest?), and now Hagrid was eminently interested in a boring newspaper cutting related to the most alarming news since Alduin woke up from that coma.

He asked Harry for details of that article and looked it up. There was really no reason to keep it – comparing it with the earlier ones, he found that the only new piece of information this one had was that the vault had been emptied earlier the same day before the robbery took place. So, suppose Harry's theory was correct and Hagrid was the one who was almost robbed? Or rather, not Hagrid, but the person Hagrid was loyal to? What did Dumbledore have that he would hide at Gringotts, and then have Hagrid take it and relocate it...where? Hogwarts was one of the options, and it certainly didn't calm him that something this apparently very dangerous robber wanted would be hidden at the school Harry attended.

He wondered whether the sudden new presence of a possibly deadly animal inside the school had anything to do with it. It could be a guard, of course, but then, Dumbledore would hardly as good as announce its presence to the whole school. No, if he wanted to hide whatever he relocated from Gringotts, he'd have sealed it with a guardian creature somewhere and not said a word.

What about Quirell, how did he fit in? Did he fit in at all? The only part he could possibly cast him in was that of the bank robber, but that sounded like too much of a stretch, so he decided to treat it as a separate business too. All of these things, however, were extremely deserving of attention – attention he truly did not have the capacity to give them.

He was now supposed to be relaxing on a private island in the Maldives, and instead, he was nervously checking if his two-way mirror was at hand and if the letter box he used to communicate with Britain didn't contain some new piece of crucial information that would necessitate an early return.

Alexandra, of course, though he was being paranoid. But then, it was different for her. The war was years ago for her, and she had barely been a teenager when it ended. The memories were far from that raw to her.

Alduin still sometimes woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, after a nightmare of the three attackers descending on him in the middle of Muggle London, of the mad attempt to get away by Apparition, of fighting when splinched...and these were only the mild ones. From time to time, the memory of learning about his parents' and grandparents' death visited him as well, and ensured that he didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night, spending it in drinking and remembering instead.

And, of course, there were the nightmares about his uncle, too.

He had never seen the man do anything particularly brutal, but he did have imagination, and not too many illusions left. In his nightmares, his uncle was always torturing Muggle children and asking him, _if I ever get out of Azkaban, will you accept me into your house?_ Sometimes, this, more than anything else, was the reason Alduin wished Riddle wouldn't return. He wanted to be spared such dilemmas.

Compared to this, of course, dealing with Harry's mysteries at Hogwarts should be almost cheering, but Alduin could not let go of this tendency to analogize every single thing to look for traces of another war to come. He remembered what his father used to say, in times that were years ago but seemed like months to him: we missed the small signs. We missed the small signs, and when the big ones came, it was too late already.


	35. Midday Confrontation

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Harry was excited to see the notice about flying lessons, and he was far from being the only one one. In Gryffindor, half of the first years was downright giddy with the knowledge that after such a long pause, they would finally be able to fly again, while Sophia's and Dean's excitement was mixed with nervousness, since they have never flown before. As for Neville and Lavender, they were simply not that fond of the exercise. Lavnder especially was rather loud in her complaints. "Don't get me wrong," she said, to their astonished looks, "I love Quidditch, I love watching it and everything, but actually being on a broom...not for me."

Parvati was looking at her friend like she felt betrayed. "But actually flying is the only good thing about Quidditch!" She said.

"I was really nervous about flying at first too," Neville said, "and I'm still not very good at it, but I sometimes find it kind of relaxing, so maybe with more practice you'll hate it less..." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well.

Lavender, however, shook her head. "That's not it," she said. "I can fly well enough. I just….don't really like it."

"Girls," Seamus muttered. "They're weird."

It earned him a smack from Sophie. " _You_ 're weird," she said, and took Lavender by the arm, to the girl's clear surprise and perhaps even slight discomfort. "Come on, let's go down to breakfast and you can tell me about flying in a sensible way – these dumbasses can only say stuff like 'it's awesome!' and 'you'll see.'"

"But it _is_ awesome," Parvati muttered, following after them, with Dean in tow.

They were to have the class with the Slytherins, so Harry was looking forward to flying with Draco again. Ron wasn't bad, but he had nothing on the young Malfoy. When they arrived to the designated place that afternoon, the Slytherins were already there, eying the school broomsticks.

"This is junk," Draco muttered, kicking one of the brooms, when Harry approached him. "I don't see why we can't have our own. I mean, I'm pretty sure it'd be safer to fly on the good ones than on this."

"I guess not everyone has their own brooms – the Muggle-Born, at least, certainly don't."

Draco looked like he wanted to say something about the Muggle-Born, but at Harry's look, he refrained. "Well," he said instead, "if the school only needed to provide brooms for the Muggle-Born, they'd maybe have enough money for some relatively decent ones." He paused. "I should have tried smuggling my Nimbus in," he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You'd have been found out."

"So what? At worst, they'd have sent it back home."

"You know, that seems a rather Gryffindor attitude."

Draco grimaced, but before he could come up with a retort, the flying instructor arrived, and the class started.

After some ridiculously easy introductory exercises, Madam Hooch split them in two groups – the experienced flyers and those who were only learning. Harry was in the experienced group with Draco, Ron, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Greg, Millicent and Daphne. However, he and Draco soon became a team of their own, racing each other and trying to outdo the other in outrageous manoeuvres. The school brooms were really rubbish, but still, once Harry really let himself go, not even Draco held a candle to him and could only watch enviously as Harry pulled his broom only few feet above ground and flew sharply back up.

"Mr. Potter!" Madame Hooch shouted, once she noticed this. "What are you doing?"

Harry was confused. "Free flying, like you told us we can."

"That was insanely dangerous!"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry if we were not allowed to do this, but you didn't say, and I practice things like this often at home."

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of broom do you have at home?"

"Nimbus 2000."

"And here's your answer. With such a broom, you can afford tricks like this, provided you are good enough flier – which I grant you are. But on old and unreliable brooms like this one, I would ask you to keep to something safer."

Harry nodded, irritated but knowing she was right, and he joined Draco again.

After dinner, as he was just getting up to leave, Professor McGonnagal appeared at their table. Absentmindedly vanishing something Fred and George were fumbling with, she said: "Come with me, Potter."

Harry gulped. "Um, can the others come with me, or…?"

"I supposed."

Harry and his friends exchanged worried looks as they followed Professor McGonnagal out of the Great Hall. Once they were far enough from any other students, the Professor gave Harry a stern look. "I have heard about your proves at flying from Madam Hooch," she said.

Oh no – was he in trouble?

"It sounded very impressive. I want you to try out for the team, Mr. Potter. I know first years are not normally allowed, but I will give you special permission. Show the team captain what you can do."

Harry's face broke into a huge grin. "Thank you, Professor!" He said, then hesitated. "Am I allowed to train before the tryouts? I mean..."

"Yes, Mr. Potter, you are. My permission slip will arrive at breakfast. You should also write home for your broom."

Oh no, he would do much better than that. He would mirror-call Alduin tonight, and with luck, he would have his Nimbus by morning!

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Harry's broom did indeed arrive in time for him to spend the whole afternoon training. He went down to the pitch with the whole of Gryffindor's first year – even Parvati went with them, though she didn't care one bit about Quidditch. There, an intense discussion about which position Harry should play took place. Beater was discarded right off the bat, since Harry didn't have the right kind of constitution for it, and Keeper was out as well, since – as Ron told him – the Gryffindor captain was one, and he would hardly be replacing himself. So Ron got Percy to transfigure them a ball, and Harry tried his luck trying to score goals with it while Ron and Seamus were doing their best to prevent him, Ron as Keeper and Seamus by pretending to be an opposing player. It wasn't bad. But as soon as they switched to Harry trying to catch random small objects his friends were throwing in different directions, he knew that Seeker was the position he truly wanted.

He got in some flying even on Saturday before lunch. The tryouts were in the afternoon, and all of Harry's first year House mates once again accompanied him to the pitch, this time to offer support. "I feel bad wishing you to kick their asses," Dean mused, "because, I mean, they're Gryffindors as well, but..."

"Screw that," Sophie said decidedly. "Kick their asses, Harry."

Ron pointed out the captain to him, and Harry, feeling rather nervous now, went to introduce himself and tell the older boy that he wanted to try out for the Seeker position. The captain, whose name was Oliver Wood, gave him a measuring look in response. "You have the right build for that," he said. "I've heard about your exception from Percy, and am now curious myself. Stand in the line, then."

He pointed to one of the two lines that formed at the edge of the pitch. Harry noticed Kiara Shacklebolt standing in the other one of them, talking to another girl in a low voice. "Hey," he said, stopping next to her. "Trying out for the team?"

"Ha, I wish," she replied with a laugh. "I can't fly worth a damn. Katie here can, though," she added, and nodded to the girl she had been talking to. "Harry, this is Katie Bell. Katie, Harry Potter."

"Hello," Katie said. "So, are you gonna be my competition?"

Harry shook his head. "You're trying out for a Chaser, aren't you? I'm going for Seeker."

"In that case, good luck."

Harry laughed. "To you, too."

He continued to his own line, his nervousness mounting. It disappeared, however, the moment he sat on the broom and kicked off. The joy of flying filled him, and he hardly even heard the encouraging shouts from his friends on the stands. He absolutely flattened his competition, catching the Snitch within minutes every time Wood let it loose. The captain seemed to be beyond himself with joy. "Keep it up, Potter," he said, "and the Quidditch Cup will be ours this year, no question about it."

His friends came over to congratulate him, and so did the other old members of the team, Fred and George and one girl, Angelina Johnson. She played Chasers, he found out, and seemed very enthusiastic about his skills. The two new chasers had been chosen before him, Katie Bell and Angelina's friend Alicia, and both seemed very happy with his performance too. Harry was feeling very proud of himself.

One person who was less that thrilled by his place on the team was Draco. "How is that fair?" He asked, enraged, when Harry told him the news on Sunday after the trials, excited and wanting to share, catching up with his Slytherin friend when he was leaving the Hall. "Why are only you given the exception?"

Harry, taken aback by the reaction, didn't reply.

"Seriously, that's a good question," said Daphne, who was right behind Draco. "How did it happen?"

"Well...Hooch apparently told McGonnagal what I did in class, and McGonnagal decided it needed to be tried."

Draco looked absolutely disgusted. "I'm going to speak to Snape," he announced, and departed speedily, Vince and Greg behind him.

Daphne sighed. "Don't mind him," she said. "Draco clearly doesn't handle being second well. He has hard enough time dealing with that know-it-all Muggle-Born in Herbology, and now this."

Pansy snorted. "Doesn't handle it well? Understatement of the century," she said. "Though I'm with him on Granger, she's insufferable. And I'm angry about the exception too, Potter, just so you know. Why should you of all people get special treatment, I have no idea."

"None of us are too thrilled," Daphne admitted. "From what my cousin told me, you fly like Merlin himself, and we could have done without someone like that on an opposing team."

"Do you think Merlin could fly?" Theo asked musingly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Go ask Granger, I'm sure she could tell you," she said, and all the girls giggled.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, Hermione can be a bit too much."

Pansy stared at him. "Don't tell me you've already befriended her?"

"I met her on the train," he muttered. "She's overbearing, but I thought she was kinda impressive as well."

"Typical. You really collect them, don't you?"

"Collect what?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Riff-raff," she said pointedly. "I knew I was right about you."

The Slytherins looked worried now. "In what way exactly?" Harry demanded in a dangerous tone of voice.

"Blood _will_ out after all," Pansy said sneeringly.

"Pansy!" Daphne cried, shocked, and gave Harry an apologetic look. "Let's go," she said to the quiet Slytherin girl by her side, whom Harry didn't know, and they both left, Pansy just a few steps after them.

"Sorry about that," Milicent said awkwardly. "Granger really rubs Pansy the wrong way."

"Hardly an excuse to tear into Harry," Theo pointed out.

"I didn't say it was," Milicent reminded him.

They both left after this, and Harry was left standing by the Great Hall door, feeling suddenly tired. He was fighting Ron about Draco and the others all the time, defending the Slytherins, only to be treated to this? He dragged his steps up to the Gryffindor Tower morosely, ignoring the whispering portraits around him. Once back in his dormitory, he opened his trunk and, after a short hesitation, decided to write a letter to his cousin. He had let him know via the mirror that he made the team, but now he could include more details, and complain about Draco's reaction. Alduin, he felt, was the only one who would truly understand. Even Neville, the most relaxed of his friends in this, tended to have rather strong biases sometimes. And Harry was so fed up with that.

Quidditch, at least, was very efficient in distracting him from that kind of worries. Since almost half of the team was new, Wood decided on a strict training regiment and they started the very next day. A trust like his could not be disappointed, and it made Harry try very hard during practice, exhausting himself enough that he had no energy left to think about Draco.

On Monday morning, Alduin's reply to Harry's complaints about Draco and Pansy arrived, and Harry had to admit it was very sensible. "Draco has some reason to be upset," it said. "A rule was broken for you, and while he might be a little worse on a broom than you are, he is still very good, and it's legitimate that he feels he should have been given this chance as well. Yes, he should have been happy for you, but given that you are on opposing teams in this, and that he never had to be happy for a more successful friend before, I think you can cut him some slack. Certainly don't expect him to apologize. If he treats you okay again following this incident, I think you should let it go. As for Pansy, she was way out of line, and you have full right to expect apology from her. I do not quite believe it will be forthcoming any time soon, but you will be fully justified to cut her from now on, until she tries to make amends – which she will, if her parents hear about it. You have the advantage of being an important personality, and people are not simply at their leisure to offend you. I understand you would prefer it if she apologized because she understood that what she said was wrong, but it has to start somewhere. You have every right to be offended, but don't burn any bridges. Remember your father and Professor Snape."

This letter gave Harry a lot to think about. The memory of the argument also made him search out Hermione Granger, to ask her about her time in Ravenclaw. She was full of enthusiasm, talking about the study groups and the House library and the tutoring offered by older students and how smart Horatio was and her wonderful new friend Su...Harry departed the library after half an hour, his ears ringing, and with a little more sympathy for Pansy's dislike.


	36. Hallowe'en

AN: Early update because I'll be out of town on Monday. Have a good weekend!

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The weather turned nastier with the arrival of October, and the Quidditch practices were becoming more of a chore. On the other hand, the first match was also approaching, and that was keeping Harry motivated. In fact, if it wasn't for the Traverses' letters, he would be in danger of neglecting his school work. As it was, they didn't give him a chance, constantly asking him about his assignments in such detail that he had no choice but to do them properly. He suspected they knew precisely what they were doing, too.

The approaching match also made him face the prejudices of his house once more. It would be against Slytherin, and everyone seemed to see it as a matter of personal honour to beat that House in particular.

"They always win, it's time we took that off them!" Oliver explained, when Harry asked about it.

"Um...from what I've heard, they only won last two years – before that, it used to be Gryffindor, because of Charlie Weasley, right?"

"Well, apart from Oliver, no one on this team remembers the time before that," Fred said with a grin. "So for us, that's the same as forever."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.

What was happening inside the castle was becoming more captivating as well. Colourful sparks were no longer the most interesting magic he could produce. He was even transfiguring things in Transfiguration now, something that he had thought would be forever out of his reach during the first class. The quality of Defence or History did not improve, and he wasn't a huge fan of Astronomy even though he had nothing against the teacher, but he had Charms and Flying to look forward to, Herbology to relax in – and admire Neville, who seemed to know everything about every plant that ever existed – and Transfiguration and Potions to challenge him. Potions especially always felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. Ever since Harry got his place on the Quidditch team, Snape treated both him and Neville worse than before, with outright hostility. His potions had to be perfect and pass the most detailed examination, otherwise he'd lose points for his House, and Neville was relentlessly mocked for every imperfection in each class.

Harry wrote to Alduin about it, but the response was not very encouraging. _Professor Snape_ , he wrote, _is being kept at school for reasons different than his teaching skill, I suspect, and Dumbledore will not let him go. And I do not have any means to make him act better towards you and Neville. We are not friends, he does not owe me anything, and I do not have anything he wants. If I can think of a way to make this better for you, I will tell you, but for now, have strength and patience, and help Neville in any way you can_.

And so they endured, class after class, and Harry always did his best to make sure to talk to Neville about the herbs they used in the potions afterwards, to help him restore his confidence. He was angry, though. He didn't care so much for himself, but he was irritated by the lost points and frustrated that after he spent so long helping Neville gain some confidence last year, Snape was now trying to destroy it.

It was so bad, in fact, that even many of the Slytherins felt sorry for them. Daphne and Theo both said it was rotten, and Draco said that if he knew Snape would react in that way to his complaint about the Quidditch team, he wouldn't have made it.

"I fear Father made it worse, too," he said. "When I wrote home about it, he went to see Snape and gave him a piece of his mind about his inability to ensure the students from his house had the same opportunities as everyone else. Couldn't have been pleasant – they're old friends..."

Draco himself, however, seemed to have dealt with his jealousy and was now behaving perfectly fine to Harry again, just as Alduin had predicted. Pansy was another matter. They were currently still on non-speaking terms, with no sign of contrition from the girl. Harry didn't particularly miss her, but it was still irritating.

Ron, of course, kept telling him things like 'that's Slytherins for you' and 'who even cares about them,' which didn't particularly improve Harry's mood.

All in all, there was enough going on that he had hardly any free time left, and he was surprised to find himself at Halloween already. The whole school was aflutter, and Harry understood from Ron's older brothers that the feast was always something magnificent. Alduin wrote him a long letter about the magical importance of Halloween, too, so that made him even more excited about it. It only added to a great ball of excitement Harry seemed to always be full of nowadays, what with Quidditch and the magic they did in classes becoming more and more exciting all the time. Why, jut on Halloween morning, they learned how to make things float in Charms!

They hurried back to the castle from their flying class in the gathering dark. It had got warmer towards the end of October, paradoxically, but the evenings were still chilly, and they were all looking forward to the warmth of the feast – and, of course, to the rumoured mountains of food.

"We never celebrated Halloween much at home," Neville said as they entered the castle. "I'm really curious."

"What, no trick-or-treating?" Sophie asked, surprised.

"No what?" Ron asked, confused.

Alduin never mentioned trick-or-treating in his letter either, so Harry had rather thought it wouldn't be a wizarding tradition.

"It's what Muggles do," he explained. "Children go 'round their neighbours' houses in scary costumes and ask for sweets."

"And people just give them some?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Well, it's tradition..." Dean said hesitatingly.

"It wouldn't really work in the wizarding world," Neville pointed out, "except in the Diagon Alley enclave and Hogsmeade, maybe. I mean, we don't really have wizarding neighbours, do we?"

"You don't?" Sophie asked, surprised. "How do people live, then?"

"In separate houses," Ron explained. "Like, there are a few other wizarding families close to us, but from what Mum told me, we're more of an exception than the rule..."

"I certainly don't know about anyone close to Travers Manor," Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I don't think there's anyone close to Longbottom Hall either."

Sophie shook her head. "It's just so weird," she said, "all of you living in those mansions."

"Not all," Ron muttered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ron, from what you told us, your family has a house with, like, seven rooms and lots of land around it. You're hardly beggars. I'm with Sophie, it's super weird."

Seamus shrugged. "It's cheaper to maintain and expand a house when you have magic. Dad always says that's one of the things he really likes about it."

Before anyone could respond, they entered the Great Hall, and the decoration put a stop to their conversation by taking their breath away.

The feast was indeed magnificent, hundreds of carved pumpkins everywhere and thousands of live bats flying around the room. The food was as excellent and plentiful as at the welcoming feast, if not more so, and Harry was feeling entirely happy and blissful...until Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, sprinted to the High Table and announced to Dumbledore: "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know." And then he fainted.

Oh dear. Seemed like another mirror call home was in order.

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Harry was called to the Headmaster's Office the next day after lunch. Confused, he followed Professor McGonnagal to a stone gargoyle, and ascending a moving staircase, he appear in the most fascinating room he had ever seen. However, he had no time to study it, nor the magnificent bird he found there, for there in the room stood – Alduin!

"Cousin?" Harry said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I was quite alarmed by your message from last night," he replied. "I came to talk to the Headmaster about the safety at the school this year. I'm not happy with it at all. But now I would like to talk to you, Harry. In private, so if you could perhaps walk with me to the gates?"

Harry nodded, and giving a nervous goodbye to the Headmaster, he followed his cousin outside. "You didn't have to come just because there was a troll at school last night," Harry said as soon as they left the office, feeling embarrassed.

"Oh, I know that, Harry. But it was a brilliant excuse, and I couldn't pass it up. Now, lead me to the forbidden third floor corridor!"

Immediately understanding, and his embarrassment replaced by excitement, Harry showed his cousin the way. Once there, he asked: "Could we get my friends? They could serve as a look out."

"I suppose. I will wait here, and Harry, hurry – I do not want to stay suspiciously long."

Harry ran at breakneck speed to Gryffindor tower. Fortunately, at least Neville, Ron and Sophie were there, and Harry led them back to his cousin, panting.

"Cousin Alduin," he wheezed, "this is Sophie Roper. Sophie, my cousin, Mr. Travers."

"Nice to meet you," Alduin said pleasantly to the girl. "Now, if you could all stand guard at the nearest corners…?"

That accomplished, he waved his wand, and suddenly the door was see-through. What was behind it gave Harry the goosebumps. No wonder they heard growling! There was a huge three-headed dog inside!

"Wow," Sophie said, excited beyond herself.

Neville seemed mostly incredulous. "A Cerberus?" He said. "Why would anyone want to keep a Cerberus at Hogwarts?"

"I will leave you to discuss this later," Alduin said, charming the door back to non-transparency. "I'm in a bit of a rush. Harry, can I have your company?"

Harry nodded, waved to his friends and fell into step with his cousin. "Harry, this is serious," Alduin said in a low voice. "Cerberi are very dangerous. I will look for a way to incapacitate it for you, if it ever escaped, but my first and most important advice is: stay away from it!"

"Of course."

His cousin seemed to hesitate, then he said: "I would feel better if all the students knew how to incapacitate it, in fact, but unfortunately, that is not feasible. I don't know if you noticed, but-" Alduin paused as they passed a group of portraits, and only when they were out of hearing distance, continued quietly: "-the dog was standing on a trapdoor. It is guarding something, and if I had to take a guess what it was, I would say that it is the same thing that someone attempted to get from Gringotts during the summer, or rather, that it's related to it."

"What is it?" Harry asked, excitedly.

"I don't know. I can only surmise it is something of Dumbledore's, because Hagrid is Dumbledore's man through and through. But why should it suddenly emerge now, why should someone make an attempt at it just now...I have no idea. And what I would like to know even more," Alduin added as he opened the heavy front door of Hogwarts, "is what makes Dumbledore think he can endanger children in this school to keep his private possessions safe! I mean, it is likely that the whatever the object, it is not actually there, that the dog is just a decoy to fool the thief – indeed, it would be reasonable – but the thing is, that doesn't diminish the danger to students in any way."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, speeding up to keep up with Alduin's lenghtened steps now they were outside.

"Well, it the best way to hide something is never tell anyone hat you have it. So I'd have expected Dumbledore to do that. If he mentioned the danger in the seventh floor corridor to all and made it accessible, there must be some purpose to it, and my best guess is that it's where the thief is meant to believe the object is. Only...well, if it works, it still means the thief will operate at Hogwarts, and he's clearly a dangerous wizard. Plus the Cerberus is here, too. That is a danger in itself. The door to that corridor is hardly warded at all."

"Why is Dumbledore doing this, what do you think?"

"I don't know. I will have to think about this a lot, Harry. You can certainly tell about this to Ron and Neville, and your other friends if you trust them, but I would ask you not to spread the word further. As uncomfortable as it makes me that the other students will not know about the danger, I do trust Dumbledore enough to believe there is a good reason he is protecting that thing, whatever it is. I will get back to you as soon as I know more."

And with that promise, Alduin bid him farewell and disapparated from behind the Hogwarts gates.

Harry went back in a pensive frame of mind. He'd certainly have to tell Sophie about what Alduin said, given that she had been there and seen the Cerberus, but what about the others? He knew perfectly well that Draco and the others from Slytherin were out of the question, because of who their families were. He'd have liked to tell all the Gryffindor first years at least, but he hesitated. Alduin trusted him to decide this well, and a lot depended on it.

He bit his lip. He'd like to discuss this with Neville, but how to get him alone without Ron? He didn't quite trust the redhead to give him good advice.

He entered the Gryffindor common room, and found his excited friends waiting for him – and discovered they'd already told all the other first years about the Cerberus. Well, he should have expected that, really.

He stayed at the edges of the speculation about the dog, afraid to betray what Alduin told him, and when they all finally went to sleep, he pulled out a piece of parchment of his bag, wrote 'I need to speak to you' on it, and gave it to Neville when the others weren't looking. Neville seemed surprised, but left his bed curtains on Harry's side opened and they waited for the others to fall asleep. When they finally heard their rhythmic breathing, Harry gestured towards the bathroom and they tiptoed there.

"What is it?" Neville asked anxiously.

"Alduin told me some things," Harry whispered back. "The Cerberus was standing on a trapdoor. He thinks it's guarding something, or...pretending to, kind of-"

"What does that mean?"

"Look, it's really complicated, I'll tell you some time that's not the middle of the night. The point is, Alduin thinks it's the thing that was almost stolen from Gringotts in the summer."

Neville's eyes widened in shock. "Really? Here at school?"

"Yeah. He reckons it's Dumbledore's, but doesn't know what it is. So he warned me against telling too many people about the Cerberus, and especially about what it's guarding. That's tricky, though – all of the firsties already know, and we can't really tell them not to tell other people about the dog if we don't tell them why not..."

Neville nodded. "You heard Parvati, she wants to tell her sister immediately, and then Padma has probably some friends in Ravenclaw she'd want to tell..."

"Exactly. So I wanted your advice on whom to tell what. I'll tell Ron and Sophie everything, because I think they deserve it when they were there, but what about Dean and Seamus and the other girls?"

"I think we can tell Dean and Seamus," Neville replied. "I mean, it's not like they talk to other people too much, so there isn't much danger they'd tell anyone. But like I said, Parvati would want to tell her sister, so I'm not too sure about the girls."

"You're probably right...and I guess we just have to deal with others knowing about the dog's presence." He hesitated. "I'd kinda like to tell Horatio and Roger, or the Shacklebolts, to see what they think about it, being older and all, but I don't really know them that well, and I don't know who else they'd tell..."

Neville nodded. "Let's keep it in our house and year for now."


	37. Quidditch

AN: Once again, an early chapter because I'll be out of town on Monday.

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It was Alduin's firm belief that all was not well at Hogwarts this year, and with that belief, he headed to the first Quidditch match of the season.

He'd told Dumbledore that he simply wanted to see his cousin fly in his first match. He did not think the old man fell for it, but it was allowed, even though it wasn't usually done, and so he couldn't quite do anything against Alduin's presence.

Not that Alduin had given him much of a chance to protest.

Quidditch was a dangerous sport, and besides a prime opportunity for accidents, it was also the occasion when the entire school gathered. There were many suspicious things going on this year, and after that troll, Alduin was not taking any risks. Dumbledore had been unable to give him any assurances, or any explanation beyond 'someone apparently wishes to harm the students of this school', and if that someone decided to try that again by releasing Stymphalian birds among the players or something like that, Alduin wanted to be present to make sure that Harry, as the youngest player, didn't become the first victim. The idea of his cousin playing worried him enough even without any particular danger – Quidditch could be brutal – and this tipped the scales.

He was very glad for this approach the moment Harry's broom started to jerk uncontrollably in the air.

He had taken the trouble of finding Quirrell in the stands before the match started, and now his eyes went directly to the man. Sure enough, he was jinxing the broom. Furiously, Alduin's eyes snapped back to Harry as he started muttering the all-purpose counter. He needed someone else here, someone who would get rid of Quirrell, otherwise this threatened to be a stalemate. Especially as he didn't know what jinx precisely was being used, so his efforts were weaker than they could have been. They could be at it, jinxing and anti-jinxing, indefinitely, or he could simply lose. He really should have taken Alexandra with him.

Or at least he had thought so, but it turned out to be ridiculously easy. Harry's broom was right again with almost no effort on his part. Could Quirrell be that weak? Impossible. No one who was even capable of jinxing a Nimbus at this distance could be overpowered that easily, especially not by an all-purpose counter. Which left only one other option – someone else was onto Quirrell.

He scanned the teacher stands quickly. No Dumbledore there, and McGonnagal didn't even seem to have noticed what was going on, but...yes! Right there, Severus Snape was fixing Harry's broom with his eyes, muttering under his breath.

Relief flooded Alduin. He gave another boost to the counter and started to work his way through the stands to have a clear shot at Quirrell from behind. Pausing several times to add more boosts, he was finally there, and with a non-verbal stunner from close distance, sent Quirrell out of consciousness. Then he returned to his seat before the commotion even started, and calmly watched Harry catch the Snitch.

He congratulated his ward once he was free of his friends, but did not attempt to keep him from celebrating with them. Instead, he headed to Professor Snape's office.

"Enter," came his voice from the inside once Alduin knocked.

"Good morning, Professor Snape."

Snape seemed surprised to see him – apparently, he hadn't noticed him in the stands. No wonder, his attention had been otherwise occupied. "Mr. Travers. Please, take a seat. What can I do for you?"

"I will attempt not to take up too much of your time, but I wanted to thank you on behalf on my ward."

Snape kept his face impassive. "I am a teacher at this school," he said. "The well-being of students is my responsibility."

Well, at least he learned from their last meeting and was not treating Alduin like an idiot pretending not to know what he was talking about. "And yet," the younger man said, "you were the only teacher intervening."

Snape's lip curled. "With Dumbledore not there, I'm the only one who knows enough abut Defence to do so."

"You are probably right, sad as it is, but I looked them over when I was looking for the source of the counter. None of them even noticed there was something amiss. Your presence of mind might well have saved Harry's life, and it certainly made it possible for me to deal with Quirrell. I wouldn't have dared to take my eyes off Harry for a moment otherwise, and I had no one with me to signal to take action. So, thank you. Do you know what Dumbledore is about to do with Quirrell?"

Snape's expression of disdain deepened. "As far as I understand the plan," he said, "he is going to pretend nothing happened."

"I see." Alduin tapped his crossed legs with his index finger, thinking. "Well, do you believe the threat of pulling Harry out of Hogwarts would do the trick?"

"Can you make it convincing?"

"With a troll, a Cerberus and an attack on Harry's life? Oh yes."

"I see Mr. Potter has gone exploring, and informed you of his findings," Snape sneered. "No doubt under that cloak of his father's."

"Not at all. I sent him to listen at the forbidden door, and then I found an excuse to get to school and see what is beyond it. I was not about to leave Harry in school with unknown danger."

Snape's sneer cleared and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Anyway," Alduin continued, "I have the great advantage of not being a Gryffindor. That means that, one, Dumbledore doesn't trust me and will do a lot to prevent me from homeschooling Harry, and two, it will be believable to him that I am so scared for Harry' life that I would refuse to leave him here. You see, I do not have the bravery required to deal with this." He paused. "Incidentally, he is right, insofar as risking someone else's life might be called bravery."

Snape nodded again. "I warn you, however," he said, "that whatever you threaten him with and whatever concessions you manage to gain, he will not let Quirrell leave the school."

"Why? What is so important about him?"

Snape's face was stone once more. "I couldn't possibly say."

Alduin frowned, thinking fast. "I was inclined to see the three-headed dog and Quirrell as unrelated," he said slowly, "but not any more. It is a trap, isn't it? The dog is a decoy, and behind it, whatever Quirrell is looking for is hidden, and once he gets there, the trap will spring." He paused. "But no, there is more. If it was only this, there would be no reason for you not to tell me, and no reason for Dumbledore to be so elaborate. He could simply capture the man and give him some Veritaserum and then it would be off to Azkaban with him. What is behind this?" Alduin got up and began pacing in front of Snape's desk. "It is something very secret, and someone Dumbledore cannot capture or imprison easily..." Suddenly, he froze and turned to Snape very slowly. "Riddle," he said. "He's in cahoots with Riddle, isn't he?"

Snape didn't move a muscle, but there was a slight hint of confirmation in his eyes.

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "Has Dumbledore gone fuckin' crazy?" He asked conversationally.

"I confess I have been asking myself the same question this year," Snape replied.

Alduin took a deep breath. "All right, so this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to threaten to pull Harry out of school unless Dumbledore puts a time-frame on this thing. Let's say he informs Quirrell that the thing will only be here till the end of November. Then Riddle will make a move, and it will all be over and done with, Dumbledore will be happy and Harry will no longer be in mortal danger. How does that sound?"

"Prepare for some hard bargaining, that is all I can say to that."

Alduin's eyes gleamed. "A good thing I'm a pro."

He headed do Dumbledore's office directly afterwards, and travelling up the stairs, he raised the strongest Occlumency shields he was capable of. This was not going to be easy.

"Oh, Mr. Travers," Dumbledore welcomed him, his eyes twinkling. "Back in my office so soon?"

"Given what happened at today's match, you can hardly be surprised to see me," Alduin replied, not bothering to hide the hardness in his voice.

"Oh yes, the malfunction of Harry's broom was very unfortunate."

"Please, spare me. We both know it was no malfunction. I am here with a proposal, Dumbledore. Unless you want me to pull Harry out of Hogwarts, you will tell Quirrell that whatever it is you are hiding here will be gone by the end of November."

The twinkle was gone from Dumbledore's eyes. "Surely you would not take Harry from his friends?" He asked.

"To save his life? I certainly would."

"First from his relatives, then from his friends...this could be made to look very bad to the wizarding public, Mr. Travers."

So that is the way you want to play it, Alduin thought. Not well chosen at all. "Not as bad as reading about the security at Hogwarts this year," he said. "It is strange, isn't it, how no articles about that appeared in the Prophet yet? And in case that wouldn't be enough, I could always have Harry give a single interview about the way his relatives treated him when he still lived with them. I assure you _that_ would look very bad."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Would you really risk anti-Muggle moods over this?"

"Why not? You seem to be perfectly willing to risk the lives of hundreds of students at this school."

They stared at each other for a long time, unflinching, before Dumbledore sighed. "I need at least until the end of January to finish the trap."

Alduin stared at him. "You mean to tell me," he said, "that you let this game start without the trap being finished?" He shook his head. "Sometimes I think you have your little gang of followers under the Imperius. There is no other way they could ignore your blunders. Until the end of the year, and that is my final offer. If both Quirrell and the forbidden corridor are not gone when Harry returns after Christmas, I'm pulling him out of here. Good day to you."

Internally fuming, he returned to the dungeons to inform Snape of his bargain with Dumbledore. "I do not want to offend you by implying you wouldn't do it in any case," he said, "but I still cannot help but ask you to keep an eye on Harry. Two eyes, if you can. I know you have enough work of your own, and I will warn him about Quirrell, and to stay out of trouble, but still."

Snape gave him a neutral look. "I will see what I can do," he said.

"Thank you," Alduin replied, and went in search of some Gryffindors that could bring him Harry from the common room.

He walked with his ward to the gates of Hogwarts once more, and this time, their conversation was even more serious. Alduin told Harry everything he knew. Then, he stopped to look Harry directly in the eyes and said with solemnity: "So first, Harry, just tell me: do you want to leave Hogwarts?" He didn't want that to happen, not only because of his deal with Dumbledore but also because he was afraid that it would somehow tip Riddle off that something was wrong, but he was not quite callous enough to ignore that Harry just had an accomplice of a wizard who once tried to kill him try it again. Trauma of this scale should not be just ignored.

"I thought you made a deal with Dumbledore saying I wouldn't," Harry replied.

"I did," Alduin agreed, "but I was working with the assumption that you'd not want to, in fact. If you don't want to stay in a school containing a teacher who wants to kill you – and even saying that sentence is so incredibly absurd I can hardly do so with a straight face, because I mean, who would? - then I'll take you home with me right now. It seems to me that there is not immediate danger, that Quirrell only tried his luck because he thought he could get away with it without anyone being the wiser, that he won't make a direct attempt...and please believe me that if I did not think so, I would absolutely pull you out without trying to get any compromise out of Dumbledore...but this is, first and foremost, your choice. It's your life that's in danger. If you don't want to stay, just say the word and you'll go back to being homeschooled immediately."

Harry considered it for a moment. "No, I'll stay. I think you're right, if Quirrell just wanted to kill me, he'd have done so a long time ago. I've been here over two months. And I like being at Hogwarts. I'll be with my friends or in the common room, and there are no more Quidditch matches until Christmas. It's going to be fine, I'll be safe."

Alduin nodded. "Well then. If you're sure. There should still be some changes, though. Ideally, you would no longer go to his classes, but as frustrating as it is, we really cannot afford to tip him off that something is wrong. But skip as often as you think you can without it becoming obvious. It is only six weeks more. Never be alone with him, Harry, that is the basic rule. Warn your friends, too, those you can trust. You will need them to make sure you are not left with him. I know it is a bother, but it would be best if they accompanied you everywhere. As I said, it is only for six weeks, and this is no joking matter. Give me your word you will be as careful as possible, or I will pull you out no matter what you say. Your life is more important."

"Yes, cousin," Harry replied, his eyes wide. "I promise."

"Very well. Be careful about leaving the castle, too. We do not know where Riddle is hiding, but Forbidden Forest is the most likely place. Do not as much as approach it."

"I understand."

"Good. I will be calling you every evening from now on. Again, I know it might be a bother, but I want to know you are safe, and I will also be asking you lots of detailed questions about your days, to see if there is anything off going on. I ask for your understanding."

"It's fine." Harry smiled.

"Good bye then. Take care."

"Good bye, cousin!"

Harry was thoughtful for the rest of the day. It was terrifying that a teacher at his school tried to kill him, and that he was in league with the wizard who killed his parents, but it was an amazing feeling that someone was looking out for him so much. It was a little disappointing that Dumbledore clearly wasn't one of those people, but his cousin was doing so much for him! And Professor Snape, in spite of really not liking his father and being so mean to him in class! Alduin warned him not to say anything to the strict teacher and not to change his behaviour towards him in any way, and Harry resolved to do his best, but it was hard not to feel fuzzy inside knowing that the Professor saved his life and almost broke Dumbledore's confidence to help protect him. It was also difficult to reconcile it to the way he acted in class, especially towards Neville, whom he still criticized just as harshly for his badly prepared ingredients and unimpressive potions that resulted from them. No class went by without Neville losing at least some points, to Harry's frustration.

He told his friends about Quirrell's attempt to kill him, and they were scandalized on his behalf, and he had to talk Neville out of writing to his grandmother. In the end, he convinced him by saying that if his cousin thought his grandmother needed to know, he would tell her.

They sat in the common room and talked well into the night, but it was not over yet. Coming to his bed, Harry found a mysterious package on it. He called the others, and fearfully, he poked it with his wand. Nothing happened. It seemed to be something soft, perhaps some kind of fabric.

Harry burned off the string with his wand and unwrapped it, still without touching it. The material was silvery and nothing like Harry had seen before, but Neville gasped. "It's an invisibility cloak!" He said, astonished.

"Wow," Ron commented. "Who sent it to you?"

Harry poked it again and a note fell out. It said: "Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well." There was no signature.

Harry thought for a moment, then grabbed the cloak and the note and dashed into the bathroom. "Sorry, I need to make a private call," he called to Neville and Ron.

Once there, he took out the mirror and called his cousin's name. It took a while before he appeared, and he looked a little dishevelled. "What is it, Harry?" He asked urgently.

"I think I just received one of the Deathly Hallows."

"What?"

"I came to my room and there was the Invisibility Cloak, tied in a bundle. There was this note in it, too," and Harry quoted its contents.

"Hmm...may I see it?"

Harry showed it at the mirror.

Alduin frowned. "Could you send me the note by owl, Harry? I want to make sure, but I'm almost certain it's from Dumbledore."

"But...why is Dumbledore giving it to me only now? Or just now? And why did my father leave it with him at all?"

"As for your last question, I would say that Dumbledore almost certainly knew it was a Hallow, and he wanted to examine it in detail. If he really has the wand, then perhaps he hoped he could collect the whole set. And as for why he is giving it to you now...well. There may be many reasons, but given the note, I am afraid there is something he wants you to do with it. I do not like it at all." He frowned.

There was a pause, and then Harry said: "I want to find out what it is."

"Harry..."

"No, really. Dumbledore's behaviour in this all has been strange, and I still feel I should try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Given that my parents liked him so much. Please?"

"We've just talked about how you should never be alone, and you want to-"

"But Quirrell won't see me!"

Alduin gave him a long, intent look, then sighed. "Fortunately," he said, "you will be very well protected under this cloak. Truly no one can find you when you have it on and you don't want them to. But Harry, be careful. As soon as you see Quirrell, just get away, all right? And no approaching that corridor."

"All right. What should I be looking for?"

"Anything strange or out of the ordinary. New rooms, rearranged rooms, new corridors, tapestries, strange objects...it can be anything. Do not worry, Dumbledore will bring it to your attention in time, even though he might take a while. But...no. I forced his hand, and he is operating on tight schedule now. It shouldn't take too long. Just promise me to be careful, and to call me before you do or touch anything!"

"I will."

Alduin severed the connection with a very troubled expression and with an order to report back to him every time he returned from his night wanderings.


	38. The Mirror of Erised

Alduin was freaking out.

Alexandra found him in one of the empty rooms where he took his conversation with Harry, evidently hoping they could continue where they were interrupted, but she took one look at his pale face and shaking hands and sighed in resignation. "What is it?"

"Dumbledore wants Harry to wander around the school at night, and gave him an Invisibility Cloak to that effect," he replied in an unsteady voice.

"That man gets creepier by the day," she said with a snort. "I don't see that as quite a reason for the panic you're obviously in, though."

"I told him he could."

Alexandra stared. "Alduin..."

"I know, I know!" He almost wailed. "But you should have seen the determined look in his eyes, I'm fairly sure that if I forbid it, he'd have just ignored me, and this way I at least know something about it...I told him to report to me every night, but I just...does every guardian have this kind of trouble with their ward, do you think?"

Alexandra gave him an amused look. "You hardly had any trouble at all. Except for that one incident with hiding in the hall and listening at the door, Harry has been a model child. It was becoming suspicious, to be honest, especially given his...troubled childhood. The luck was bound to break one day."

"Believe me, I would much rather have to deal with him talking back to me and sneaking out in the night to fly than putting himself in mortal danger."

"Is it really so bad?"

"Well, he'll be wandering the school alone, at night, while there is Riddle's lackey present. Yes, I'd say that's pretty bad."

She considered. "You could contact Professor Snape. Tip him off and make sure Harry stops."

Alduin shook his head. "Harry would see that as a betrayal, especially as his relationship to Snape is...complicated. That would just lead to him not trusting me with these things, and not telling me the next time he does something like that. He has trust issues a mile wide – you weren't present when we discussed him listening at the door, but it was pretty obvious – and I have to work on improving this, not making it worse. But I just...surely there is a way to do this without letting him risk his life? I feel..." He hesitated. "I just feel like such a failure as a guardian, not being able to find another way."

Alexandra stepped closer to him, and pressed his shoulder a little awkwardly. "I think most guardians don't have to deal with these situations," she said. "And look, whatever we think about Dumbledore, he doesn't want Harry to die, and he has very firm control of the school."

"You mean like he almost let him get killed in a Quidditch match?"

"Well, that's just it. Quirrel had to find an innocent-looking opportunity like that. He couldn't just do it inside the castle, during the first week of school. And this was arranged by Dumbledore, he will make sure Harry doesn't come to harm."

Alduin was far from convinced, but he exhaled and let some of the tension seep out of him.

"Did you let Harry see you like this?" She asked then.

Alduin laughed hollowly. "No, of course not," he said. "I do have some control over myself, though it did mean I had to end the talk a little abruptly."

Alexandra nodded in satisfaction and wandered away, Alduin slowly following her. Truth be told, he hadn't planned on her seeing him like that either, but well. It was too late now, and really, it had gone better than he would have expected.

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Harry was trying not to spend too much time in the night awake and wandering the corridors of Hogwarts, but he also didn't want to miss whatever it was that Dumbledore wanted him to find, and so he did sleep much less than he should have, and on Monday, had to fight to stay awake. Especially during Herbology, it being the last class of the day and the greenhouse being stiflingly hot, his eyes seemed to be closing of his own volition and Ron had to nudge him a few times, Neville being too occupied by the plants they were dealing with to notice.

Zacharias Smith, on the other hand, did.

"Don't fall asleep in the dirt, Harry," he said loudly, sniggering. Harry gave him a mean look, and had to deal with Professor Sprout watching him carefully for the next ten minutes. Wasn't there a spell that could keep him awake? He should ask Alduin.

Sprout wasn't the only one watching him either. After class, Hannah came to him and said: "Are you all right, Harry? Zach is right, you really do look tired."

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. Just didn't sleep so well last night."

"If you keep having the problems, just ask the elves for a herbal tea, it's very helpful!"

Harry had no idea how to ask the Hogwarts elves for anything, so he just nodded.

"There must be some potion for this, too," Susan added, to her friend. "It might be good to find out – someone could be nervous and have trouble sleeping before the exams, so it could come in handy. We should ask Hermione."

Harry blinked. "You know her, too?" He asked.

Susan shrugged. "Not well, no, but we have Potions with her and she seems to know absolutely everything there is to know about them, so I thought we could ask."

"We're certainly not going to ask Professor Snape!" Hannah said in a whisper, as if she was afraid he could hear her.

"No indeed," Susan confirmed, but she looked more disapproving than terrified.

Harry longed to tell them that Snape saved his life, that he wasn't all bad, but he stopped himself. He knew it was a secret.

"Millicent told Hannah how he treats you," Susan added to Neville. "It's disgraceful."

"Well, it's not like he doesn't have a point – my ingredient preparation really is terrible," Neville muttered.

"That's hardly an excuse to be _mean_ , though is it?"

In that moment, Ernie joined their little group. "Girls," he said with emphasis, "we should go. Remember that homework from Astronomy we haven't finished."

Susan nodded and she and Hannah waved at Harry and left.

"We going up too?" Ron asked.

"Eh. Let's go visit Hagrid. If I tried to do homework now, I'd fall asleep for sure."

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Alduin had been right. It took only three nights for Harry to find a door open that had always been firmly shut before. He entered the room and discovered it was a sort of storage, with a tall, beautiful mirror at the end of the room.

Under the cloak, he took out the two-way mirror and called his cousin.

"Yes?" Alduin asked, but Harry put a finder to his lips and pointed the two-way at the sight at the end of the room.

"What does the writing say?" Alduin whispered very softly.

Harry got a little closer, and with trouble, read: " _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. What language is this?"

"It's no language, Harry. It's simply backwards."

Harry mentally translated it and his eyes widened. "It shows you what you want to most in the world," his cousin explained. "You can take a quick peek if you want – it can be good for self-knowledge – but no more than that. And...if you really want to know what Dumbledore is playing at, take off the hood for the peek."

Harry obeyed, and after only a very quick look, put the hood back on and almost ran back to Gryffindor tower.

Once he was in the safety of the now empty common room, Alduin asked him: "What did you see? Unless, of course, it is too private."

Harry shrugged a little awkwardly. "Not really private, no, more like sad. I saw myself sitting with my parents and what must have been younger siblings at the table with you and Alexandra and a little boy who I assume was little Wynn...we were all just very happy and cheerful together, and around us was the wider family, including all those people who have been killed, like your parents and grandparents and Neville's parents and just everyone...your uncle wasn't a Death Eater, either, and neither was Draco's dad..."

Alduin sighed. "In short," he said, "you saw a world how you imagine it if Riddle never was. There are many who share your wish, I'm sure. All that¨s left of that is at least making certain that he does not come back..."

Harry nodded vigorously to that, and there was a short silence.

"Do you want to continue with this?" Alduin asked then, sounding hesitant and tired.

"Of course!" Harry was affronted his cousin even needed to ask.

He closed his eyes in the two-way mirror. "Very well. I do not know why Dumbledore wanted you to see the mirror, but there is a chance that if you keep coming, he will explain. Just never take more then a single peek – it can become addictive. I hope that's not what Dumbledore is going for, but I cannot exclude the possibility...so maybe you should pretend to be entranced. You can stare at the writing or something while doing so. But Harry, one warning: when you are trying to trick Dumbledore, do not look him in the eye. Otherwise, he could read your mind."

Harry's eyes widened. This was terrifying. Read his mind? His secret thoughts? Discover all the doubts Harry had about him? He started at his cousin, not knowing what to say, and Alduin quickly added: "You do not need to do this if you don't want to. We do not need to know. It's completely unnecessary."

Harry shook himself. This was important, and he was a Gryffindor after all. He was brave. "Oh no, it's fine!" He said cheerfully. "I will remember your warning, and I will do my best."

Alduin seemed to hesitate again, but then he said: "Very well then. Good night."

"Alduin?" Harry stopped him, too curious to leave it alone.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What do you see when you look in the mirror, do you know?"

"Yes. Nowadays, I see me and Alexandra with our grown-up children, who are all married and have children of their own, all healthy and happy. I...do my best to look towards the future."

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It took only two more nights for Dumbledore to show up when Harry was in the mirror room. Harry's two-way mirror was active, allowing for his cousin to listen in, as Dumbledore spoke, saying: "So — back again, Harry?"

Harry gave a start, and said: "I — I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was rather irritated – he hadn't seem Dumbledore because he had been invisible, the old tosser.

"So," said Dumbledore, not noticing his mood, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I guess so, sir."

"I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

Harry tried to imagine how much he could have figured out on his own. Surely he could have decrypted the writing? "It says here that it shows our heart's desire," he said slowly.

"That is the short explanation, yes. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry nodded mutely, not quite trusting himself to speak, and left. He had really wanted to give Dumbledore the benefit of the doubt, but he was becoming more and more irritated by the headmaster. His behavior in this entire business was extremely shady, beginning with the fact that he did nothing about Quirrell trying to kill him. What kind of headmaster was that? It had seemed pretty strange to him in itself, and his friends' enraged reaction – especially Neville's and Dean's – only served to drive it home how absurd it was. Seamus seemed mostly incredulous, doubting that Dumbledore truly knew what was going on. Harry was a little irritated by that, but couldn't truly blame him – it was surreal enough.

And now Dumbledore was pretending that it hadn't been his intention that Harry founds the Mirror. "Because stuff like that obviously just randomly appears in unused classrooms full of old stuff," he muttered under his breath as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gave him a strange look.

His friends were waiting for him, as they always were when he returned from his night wanderings. Sophie, Ron and Dean had asked him to take them with him, and he had been glad to have the excuse that they wouldn't all fit under the cloak, because he remembered his cousin's words that the Mirror could be dangerous, and he didn't want to put his friends at risk. Though, admittedly, he was also curious about their dreams.

Now he brought back the news about Dumbledore, and the topic was brought up again. "Come on, Harry," Sophie said. "This is our last chance to see the Mirror. Your own cousin, who's no risk-taker from what you've said, told you to take a look because it can be good for self-knowledge. If we go together, we can make sure we don't stay looking too long. Come on, I want to know!"

Harry sighed. "Fine," he said. "Who wants to go?"

Ron and Dean both eagerly nodded, apparently not having changed their minds in the last few days. "Okay, we can't all fit, so we'll go in stages," Harry decreed. They tried and found out that three of them could actually fit under the cloak, so Ron and Sophie went first, with Harry giving his word that he'd come back for Dean.

The way to the Mirror room was uneventful, and once there, Sophie stepped forward without fear. Then, she blinked. "Oh," she said, in a weak voice.

"What is it?" Harry asked, rather worried. Then, when she didn't react, he tugged insistently at her hand.

She stepped back, blinking quickly. "What did you see?" Ron asked. Harry gave him a look. Clearly, it was something personal.

Sophie shrugged and muttered something incomprehensible. "You go have a look," she said then, and Ron obligingly stepped forward.

He looked at the image, and shrugged a little awkwardly. "Yeah, that'd be cool I guess," he said and stepped back.

Harry gave him a questioning look.

"I saw myself as a Head Boy and a Quidditch Captain," Ron said, sounding embarrassed.

"That's a good thing to see," Harry observed. "At least you can work towards that..."

Sophie was still silent. They moved back towards their House, where Harry took Dean and led him back. Dean apparently just missed his family and wished they could come and see him at Hogwarts.

There were no more people interested in seeing the Mirror, and so they went to sleep in a rather pensive frame of mind. "You sure you didn't want to see?" Harry whispered towards Neville as they prepared for bed. "There won't be another chance..."

"No," Neville replied quietly, not looking at him. "I mean, I know what I'd see anyway."

Harry winced. "I'm sorry, Neville," he repeated, for the upteemth time.

"Well, you saw your parents as well. You know how it is."

Harry nodded, and after a short hesitation, added: "It wasn't just them, you know. I didn't want to mention it before, but I saw your parents, all right and happy, as well."

Neville looked at him then, and a big, grateful smile bloomed on his face. "Thank you, Harry," he said. "It means a lot to me."

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AN: In case someone was wondering how Alduin knew what he saw in the Mirror, I don't imagine it as being one of a kind sort of thing. They can be made on order, I imagine, so of course Alduin would have access to one.


	39. Through the Trapdoor

AN: I'm so sorry for being late with it! September is an evil, evil month when I try to desperately finish all of my grad school duties from the last year. But it's over now, so I'll try to post often to make up for those two months of absence.

For those who forgot what happened last time, Harry spoke to Dumbledore in front of the Mirror of Erised and basically got really angry with him.

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Alduin was pacing in his study, furious – something that did not happen to him often. But who did Dumbledore think he was? He saw the plan clearly now, of course. Harry was meant to see the mirror and understand how it worked, and then be told it was being moved to a new location – clearly, to be part of that trap for Riddle. Alduin did not believe in such coincidences as there being no connection at all. So Harry was meant to go looking for it, or alternately he would be offered some other motivation to try and pass the dog, and thus he was to – what? Sweeten the trap for Riddle? Push him to make a move? Alduin swore. He would need to know what it was exactly that the mysterious prophecy – if there indeed was a prophecy – said if he wanted to understand this. But whatever Dumbledore's idea was, he was not going to allow it to happen. He had explained the headmaster's manipulation to Harry, and now the boy was on his guard and hopefully that would be enough to prevent disaster. Still, Alduin had an incredibly bad feeling about it.

It only got worse a day later, when he got the next letter from Harry. He groaned. Apparently Hagrid got himself a dragon egg. From a stranger in a pub, won in a card game. Sometimes, he wished he lived in a world composed entirely of Ravenclaws…

He mirror-called Harry immediately.

"You need to go back to Hagrid's," he said. "This is suspicious beyond belief. Hagrid might not know it, but dragon eggs are not only Class A Non-Tradable, they are also expensive. And I mean very expensive. I mean that one dragon egg successfully sold could set you up for life if you were modest. No one who gets their hands on one is going to just bet it in a card game in Hog's Head."

"Hog's Head?"

"It's a pub down in Hogsmeade, the one where various suspicious characters meet." He sighed. "Look, I have no idea how or if this ties into the Riddle business, but I'm suspicious of anything extraordinary at this point. Go to Hagrid and ask him everything about how he got the egg: ask him about the stranger and what they were talking about. Just anything at all he can remember."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, "but what should we do about the egg itself?"

Alduin exhaled. Of course. "I will try to contact someone who knows people working with dragons," he said. "Perhaps they can take the egg." He gritted his teeth. He knew perfectly well who his best hope was, of course: Aurelius Prince. His ability to contact that man, however, was doubtful.

"Ron's brother works with dragons," Harry remembered. "You know, Charlie. Maybe he could help."

So it was between Eliza's husband and the Weasleys. Alduin really could have done without choices like that. "Isn't he in Romania?" He asked.

"Yeah, but...maybe he knows some people."

"Hm. I'll try to contact him. Thank you for the tip, Harry. Now off you go to Hagrid's, we need that information."

He put down the mirror, and shaking his head in worry and wonder, he opened the day's paper – only to stare at the news that a famous collector was found dead in his house yesterday.

He knew about that collector. He knew what sorts of things he tended to collect.

Suddenly, he was very certain where Hagrid's stranger got his dragon egg.

He was not particularly surprised when, scarcely an hour later, a panicked Harry called back, announcing that Hagrid told the stranger how to get around the Cerberus. If there was some connection to the mysterious hidden object, he really should have known it would be through the dog. Hagrid and animals, after all...

Apparently, the groundskeeper also said that the whole business had something to do with Nicolas Flamel.

Alduin almost had a heart attack.

"What is it?" Harry asked, seeing his expression.

"Nicolas Flamel is the maker and only known owner of the most precious magical artifact currently in existence. Has Dumbledore lost his mind?" He took a deep breath. "All right, Harry, it means this will be over soon. Riddle will go through and the trap will spring, and we will all be able to sleep peacefully once again."

"But what if Riddle gets this artifact?" Harry asked insistently.

"Harry, it's a trap," Alduin said patiently. "Trap prepared by Professor Dumbledore himself, and whatever you might think about him, he is a very powerful wizard."

"Yes, but Riddle is powerful too, isn't he? What if he is stronger? I don't like it! I want to do something!" Harry seemed to be nearing hysteria.

"If you think Professor Dumbledore's trap is not enough, what do you think we can do?" Alduin tried.

"Well, maybe the trap and us combined will be enough!" The boy said desperately.

Alduin gritted his teeth. "Fine," he said, "tell you what. I sincerely doubt Riddle will go for it in the middle of the day, when anyone could see him. So unless he managed last night already, it'll probably be tonight. So I'll come up to Hogwarts and follow him to the trap to make sure he's really caught, okay?"

Harry mused about it for a moment. "I want to go with you," he said then.

"Out of the question!"

"But what if something happens to you!" And before Alduin had time to say something, Harry continued: "Look, Dumbledore clearly wanted me there, right? Don't you want to find out why? I know I do!"

Alduin looked at Harry's stubborn expression. He wanted to murder Dumbledore right then, slowly. What was he supposed to fo? How was he supposed to get out of this, how was he supposed to ensure Harry was safe without betraying his trust? Not seeing any way out and hating himself for it, he said: "Very well. Meet me at the gates after dinner, and we will deal with it together. Acceptable?"

Harry looked very grateful. "Thank you," he said.

As soon as the connection was broken, Alduin was Floo-calling Snape. The next call was even more crucial, though. He threw the powder in and called: "Ministry of Magic, Auror office!"

Once his head stopped whirling and he was looking out over the Auror Headquarters out of the small fireplace only ever intended for calls, never for traveling, he turned to the secretary and said: "I need to speak with Auror Shacklebolt, please."

She nodded and penned a quick memo, and after a few minutes, Kingsley was facing him with an inquisitive expression. "What is it?" He asked.

"I'll need you this evening," Alduin said. "It's urgent. Can you come to my house directly after work? I'll explain."

Now Kingsley looked curious. "Okay," he said slowly, "I'll be there."

And at five, to the dot, he was. Alduin awaited him in the receiving room, and lead him to his study, explaining the matter in detail. "So, you see," he finished, "I can't override Dumbledore's authority – not without causing a scandal, which I'd rather avoid – and so I can't call in the Aurors officially, but Harry is actually right. This is Riddle we're dealing with. The trap might not work, and if that happens, I'd much rather have backup."

"But why did you agree to take him there with you in the first place?"

Alduin sighed. "Because it was clear as day that if I hadn't, he'd have gone alone. I'm still considering petrifying him when I meet him at Hogwarts, but, well...he'd never trust me again. I'll just have to rely on Dumbledore's ingenuity."

Kinglsey seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded and asked: "Will you be taking anyone else?"

"I thought about it, but...well. The people I truly, fully trust apart from you and Nathan – and Nathan would not come, as you know - are basically Abdullah, Isobel, Mercurius and Ginevra. And Muhammad, I guess. In other words, one transcendental, two arithmancers, one healer and one charms expert. Ginevra'd be by far the most useful, but she's also married to Jonathan, and...well. I don't want to cause trouble between them, and you know he'd be furious if he found out. Besides, marching in with six people might be a little too obvious."

"I could offer the people _I_ trust, but I know trust transference doesn't work that way. All right then. The two of us it is. We'll be at Hogwarts, so it should be safe enough. Let's do this."

And so they relocated to the school, where Severus Snape opened the gates for them. "I will not be going in with you," he muttered. "I don't need that kind of discussion with Dumbledore. But I'll stay alert."

Alduin nodded. "That's all I ask."

"You also need to know there will be five defences, apart from the Cerberus and the final trap, whatever it is. Five of us teachers worked on it. I don't know about the others', but mine is not particularly strenuous, but made according to Dumbledore's request. I am not sure what was his goal here."

"To lure Riddle into a false sense of security, I assume."

They met with Harry and walked up to school, where they camped in front of the third-floor corridor door, partly disillusioned and partly hidden under Harry's cloak and with a silencing spell on the area around them. It was several hours before Quirell came. Alduin was surprised – he had expected it would be Riddle in person. This could probably complicate Dumbledore's plans, he mused as they waited a few minutes and then silently followed him inside. The Cerberus was sleeping soundly, and Kingsley began to sing to keep him so as they gave Quirell a moment beyond the trapdoor before Alduin conjured a very long ladder and they climbed down.

"All right, Harry," he whispered, "since I'm quite sure you considered doing this alone if I didn't let you come with me-" Harry muttered something behind him, and while it was not an admission, it was certainly not a denial either, so Alduin continued: "-what would you have done here?"

"I guess I would have just jumped," Harry said after a while.

"Hm. It's about seventeen feet. There is distinct chance you would have broken an ankle or two." They were approaching the ground, and Alduin shone his wand at it to notice a plant growing there. "And what would you have done about this?" He asked.

"Wait...it's Devil's Snare, isn't it? Lighted a fire, I guess, but I don't know how capable of that I would have been with possibly a broken ankle, and, you know, falling directly into it, with no time to prepare," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"Quite." As it was, the plant ran away from the light and they continued on their way. Alduin was rather confused by the setup. There was luring Riddle into a sense of security, and then there was making the defences so easy to overcome a first year could get through, with a little bit of luck.

Alduin paused. Of course. _Dumbledore, you fucker._

They stopped when they heard cursing from inside. It was quite vulgar, and took quite a lot of time before they heard the next door slam. "So I gather this one will be more of a challenge..." Alduin mused. Perhaps he had been unfair to Dumbledore after all.

They entered a room full of flying keys, and unopenable door at the other side. Snidely, Alduin thought that if they had just put such unopenable door at the entrance of the Cerberus' room, everything would have been so much easier.

It also made all of his anger towards Dumbledore come back, because this task was basically tailored to Harry. The man was not even trying to be inconspicuous.

They left it to the boy, and he figured it out with some hints and certainly caught the key much quicker than Quirell had, grinning as he forced it into the lock, its keys still batting uselessly against the firm Seeker grip.

They opened the door very quietly and saw the turbaned man playing chess, himself taking the part of the black king. So they waited again, and once the coast was clear, entered.

"All right," Alduin said, "so I will be king, and I want you, Harry, to wait at the side until the game is over. This could be brutal," though he also didn't think it would be that hard, not if Dumbledore intended for Harry to get through. Chess – perhaps he meant for the Weasley boy to go with him? He remembered the Devil's Snare, and thought of Neville. Clearly, it wasn't enough to endanger Harry's life, he had to try to involve others too. He was probably right. Had Harry not been here with him and Kingsley, he might have taken his friends, or rather, his friends might have offered to go with him.

"You want to play, Kingsley?" He asked, trying to push his anger and frustration away until this situation was dealt with.

"No. Someone should stay conscious and aware in case you lose, to help Harry get out of here," the man pointed out very reasonably.

As he had expected, the game _was_ brutal but not too hard, and Alduin played economically and quickly and it was over soon enough. "Let's go," he said, "we don't want to fall back. But you can tell me what you would have done here, Harry."

"I have no idea," Harry admitted. "I'm rubbish at chess."

"I am well aware."

The next room contained a dead troll, something that made Alduin wonder – how had Harry been supposed to deal with that one? - and prompted some admiring comments from Kingsley. "This was very well done," he muttered. "The man is certainly better at trolls than catching keys."

"Well, he _is_ a Defence teacher," Alduin replied. "You'd hope so."

In the room after that, they were surprised by flames in the doorway, through which they could see Quirell frowning over a row of flasks. It took him absurdly long, and Harry was yawning openly by the time he finally left through the flames at the other side. At that moment, the ones at their door disappeared and they were able to enter, only to have them light behind them. Alduin walked slowly to the table, and smiled when he saw what was written on the piece of paper, the last fake defence.

"This will be your task again," he said to Harry, pointing at the puzzle written there.

"What? No! We don't have the time!"

"Harry, there is no other way out of here than back through all of these rooms, I am certain of that. We have as much time as we want. Now get down to it."

Harry frowned, but took the paper without more arguments and began to mutter to himself. It took him a while, but in the end, he cracked the problem and figured out the right bottle to get through the flames.

"Very well," Alduin said, "now it's time for business."

As if Harry could read his mind, he immediately said: "I want to go in. I'm not letting you do this alone."

Alduin considered petrification again. Trust, he told himself. You need him to trust you if you want to catch things like this in the future.

"There's very little of that potion left," he said. "I'm not sure...Kingsley, how many people, what do you think?"

Kingsley examined both the flask and the flames. "Not all three of us, that's for sure," he said. "Perhaps two, at most, but...not two adults. Harry is much smaller, so less will be enough for him. In fact, you're smaller than me, too, so you and Harry would probably be the safest combination as far as getting through the flames goes. Or, of course, I can go in alone."

"Hardly. I didn't ask you here to just get killed by Quirrell. You saw what he did to that troll." If something happened to Kingsley, Alduin would never forgive himself.

The man gave him a sarcastic look. "It might have slipped your mind, but I am a trained Auror. Contrary to you, and more importantly, to Harry."

Alduin waved it aside, though there was some use for his professional qualification. "What strategy would you recommend?"

"Whoever goes in, the other should wait here and make sure Quirrell doesn't escape this way, while also sending a Patronus to Snape to let him know what's going on. The one who goes in should have a drop of that potion, disillusion himself and pass through the flames. With a little bit of luck, Quirrell won't notice him even if he isn't already caught, and I – or you - will be ale to observe him and interfere only if necessary, if Dumbledore's trap fails."

"See?" Harry said. "It's completely safe, he won't even see us, I can go in and help you!"

Alduin put up his hand for silence, and considered the situation. "The trap has something to do with the Mirror. It's...not going to be your typical offensive one, I'm willing to wager. I'm expecting it to be rather sublime, in fact."

"You're coming up with reasons for it to be you, not me, who goes in." Kingsley was clearly unimpressed.

"Yes. It was my idea." Well, it was Harry's, but still. "It should be me who risks his life if we get into trouble." At least Alexandra is already pregnant, he thought with a shudder. If I die, it won't be an end to everything. "But it's also completely true."

"I should have tried to convince Nathan to come with us," Kingsley said resignedly.

"It wouldn't have worked, he would have wanted to call in Aurors, and besides, I'm still better qualified at this than he is. Probably. And it's not like I can't hold my own in a fight."

"Didn't I hear you discount Muhammad Shafiq as a mere transcendental just a few hours ago?"

"He didn't take active part in the war. I did."

Kingsley sighed. "Have it your way, then."

Alduin only nodded, and turned to Harry: "So, wait here with Kingsley-"

"No! We have enough potion this way, I want to come in with you! I want to! I want to help." And there was that stubborn set of his chin again, and just the barest touch of legilimency was enough to give him the image of Harry leaping through the flames without the potion to protect him. Alduin shuddered, and considered petrification for the third time.

"All right," he said, hating himself even more. "But we will stay just by the flames, under the cloak, and at the slightest sign of trouble, we go back through, understood?"

Harry nodded solemnly, his eyes wide, and Alduin had a moment to be grateful it wasn't actually Riddle inside. He would have had no choice but to Petrify Harry, then.

"We'll go through the flames under the cloak, too," he said. "Nothing can really damage it, and it's more reliable than a disillusionment."

Harry agreed to this plan, and with a nod to Kingsley, they set out.


	40. The Man With Two Faces

Alduin was a little worried the tiny drop of potion they had would not be enough to render them immune to the flames, but Kingsley had been right. It worked. He only felt a slight tingling and then they were through, in the last chamber, a middle-sized room with nothing but the mirror in it, and the man in front of it.

They even managed to get inside unseen. Quirrell was concentrating on the Mirror of Erised and there was no chance for him to notice the small disturbance in the flames as they passed.

He was pacing, muttering to himself. "This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," he said, tapping the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" There was a pause. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

It was a very good thing that Alduin had non-verbally put a silencing spell on the area they were in again, because Harry yelped when, suddenly, a voice answered, a voice that seemed to come from Quirrell, even though his lips were not moving. "You must take the mirror apart...analyse the enchantments on it..."

Alduin was not that far from yelping himself, or at least screaming in sheer terror. Possession. Why had the possibility never occurred to him?

He knew why, of course. Quirrell had been Harry's teacher for the last three months. Not even in his worst nightmares had Alduin imagined Dumbledore actually allowing the Dark Lord to teach at his school.

Perhaps the Headmaster didn't know? Alduin certainly hoped so, Still, it was disturbing he couldn't tell for sure.

Harry gave him a terrified look under the cloak, and Alduin almost screamed again, this time in frustration and despair. He swore to protect Harry, and what had he done? Brought him right along with him to a room with Voldemort, and allowed them to be locked in by flames.

He would have been afarid, very afraid, even had he been alone. Unlike Lily or James, he had never faced Riddle directly, preferring to help from behind the scenes as much as he could, researching new spells and supplying money. Even in the last year of war, when his involvement had been more direct, he never faced anyone more horrifying than Lucius.

But the fact that Harry was here...well, that turned it into a completely new kind of horror. One that made him want to just freeze.

He reached for his training from the war, and pushed all of those unproductive emotions as far away as his mediocre Occlumency allowed. Now was not the time. He could have a panic attack later at leisure.

The number one priority now was finding a way to get Harry out of here and through the flames without burning him, if at all possible. If it came to it, he would of course throw the boy through and let Kingsley put him out, but it was better to try and find another way.

Meanwhile, Quirrell started to cast the diagnostic spells, and Alduin allowed himself to be distracted for a moment, watching attentively, observing the results that appeared in various colours around the object. He need to know what they were dealing with.

Once he realized the point of the trap, he let out a small gasp himself. Ingenious! Yes, Dumbledore still had it, in spite of his doubts in the last weeks. This was simply brilliant. Whatever he might think about the man's ethics, he was an exceptionally talented wizard.

And now, what to do about this whole situation. Their presence in the room was suddenly a liability, a way for Riddle to get at the Stone. He and Harry could both simply leave, but that did not seem entirely satisfying. After all, there was no such thing as a truly unbreakable enchantment – you just needed enough power. And this was Riddle. If someone could have it, it was him. He could force his way through. Especially as there was no time-frame to this – he could leave and return with some power boosters. Dumbledore had clearly counted on Quirrell being entranced by the mirror, but equally clearly, that had not happened. So, what now?

It was easy enough to deal with Quirrell, but dealing with Riddle's spirit would be much harder. Alduin needed a fool-proof way to make Quirrell unconscious before Riddle noticed there was anything amiss. If he could hold the spirit in afterwards was anyone's guess, without any ritual material at his disposal, but he knew for a fact that he didn't stand a chance if Riddle had an advance warning. A stunner would simply not do, because seeing the flash of light would likely be enough of a tip-off to the spirit. No, the best way to ensure this was distraction.

He prepared to think long and hard about the best way, when he noticed that Quirrell had, in fact, started to unwrap the enchantments. All right, so it was going to have the be 'the quickest way'.

Alduin sighed very heavily. The risk was minimal, of course, but he was still very unhappy with doing it. If there had been a safe and painless way out of the room for Harry, he still might have sent him away and tried to deal with it himself. As it was, though, in that cool, emotionless place he pushed himself to, the best solution presented itself clearly...

"Harry," he said, safe behind the silencing barrier, "you insisted on coming here. Would you be willing to serve as a distraction now?"

Harry gulped. "Yeah," he said. "What do I do?"

"Just pretend you have only now emerged from the flames, and maybe act surprised to see him here? Ask him to explain everything. There were no too overt moves against you on his part – you might have believed Headmaster's story about your broom just malfunctioning. Pretend to have expected Riddle, and let him talk as long as possible. And as with Dumbledore, do not look into his eyes. He will want to use you, so he will not kill you, but he could hurt you if you argued with him in any way. I'll do my best to prevent him getting as much as a shot at you, though. Are you willing to do this?"

Harry nodded, visibly nervous. Alduin disillusioned him, took away the cloak and cancelled the spell.

"You!" Harry cried dramatically, pointing at Quirrell, and Alduin slowly walked to the other side of the room under the cloak, his wand never turning from Quirrell for a second. He was still silenced, but he needed to be careful of even disturbing the air, he knew. This was crucial.

"Me," the possessed man said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"But I though Voldemort-"

"Do not speak his name without respect, Potter!" Quirrell shouted. He snapped his fingers and ropes twined themselves around Harry, making Alduin's wand twitch. But it was only ropes. The professor calmly continued: "But you were right. He is indeed here with me..."

Harry looked around. "Where?" He asked, surreptitiously trying to free his hands – in vain.

Quirrell laughed darkly. "He is with me wherever I go. I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me. He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

Quirrell never noticed the silent spell that got him from very close distance, and he passed into unconsciousness.

"Yes!" Harry shouted happily, as Alduin bound Quirrell by ropes coming out of his wand and vanished his turban with a wave. As he had expected, there was another face there, and it was growling with displeasure as as he tried with all his power to wrestle it into staying in the host body.

He tried to concentrate, to use all of his reserves and pour it into this, this one chance he had at containing a danger to Harry, to himself, to his entire family and to the whole world. He tried to let this motivate him, to supply him with the strength he needed so much in the moment, He gave it everything he had.

However, even in this weakened form, it was still the spirit of one of the most powerful wizards in history, and Alduin was simply not strong enough. There was a long wail, and Quirrell's second face was suddenly empty and without expression.

It was at this point that Dumbledore arrived.

"Harry, my boy," he cried, vanishing the bounds, "I am so glad you are unharmed!"

Alduin threw off the cloak, and asked, his voice colder than ice: "Did you know that Quirrell was possessed?"

Dumbledore masked his shock and displeasure upon seeing him quickly. "Well, I have had my suspicions, but I couldn't have been sure, naturally..."

Alduin was having none of that. "If you had told me," he said, "I could have done away with his spirit tonight. I had thought you could have, too, but perhaps not – you have never particularly studied transcendental sciences. So your inability to trust anyone has led to Riddle escaping tonight. When he comes back, you can find a source of nightmares in the knowledge that it is because of you, and because of your stubbornness and secretiveness. People will die because of you, Dumbledore. I hope you enjoy that feeling."

And with that, he gestured to Harry and they headed out through the now empty doorway.

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They were sitting in Alduin's study in Travers Manor, where he had taken Harry for the night after bidding goodbye to Kingsley. His ward was full of questions, as was understandable.

"What's the Stone Quirrell was talking about?" He asked. "That's the precious artefact, right?"

"Yes. It's the Philosopher's Stone, and its main properties are that it can turn any metal into gold and you can make the Elixir of Life with it, an Elixir that ensures you would never die."

"Wow! No wonder Riddle wanted that!"

"Yes. In his case, it would bring back the body for his houseless spirit. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, baiting him with that – it was insanely dangerous."

"And what did he want me to do?"

Alduin took a sip of his whiskey and frowned. "I'm really not sure. Knowing what I know, it makes the whole thing even more absurd – because, you see, there was a spell on the mirror that ensured only someone who wanted to find the stone, not use it, could take it out of the mirror. So without you there, it would be relatively complicated for Riddle to do anything. He started to unravel the spell when we were there, but it would take him a while, and there might have been some traps hidden in that, too. But with you Dumbledore actually gave him a chance to get the stone. Once you had it, it wouldn't have been hard for Riddle to take it from you."

Harry scowled. "So was Dumbledore simply trying to kill me in a very elaborate way, or what?"

Alduin shook his head. "I do not believe so. I believe it has something to do with that bloody prophecy, if it exists at all."

There was a short silence as they both drank, though Harry only had pumpkin juice at his disposal.

"And what happened to Riddle?" The boy asked then.

Alduin shrugged. "He simply left, returned to the state he was in after you destroyed his body. He will be able to find someone else to possess and try again. Had I known in advance that this was what we would be dealing with, I could have brought some ingredients and artefacts that would have prevented his escape. That is what makes me so livid."

"Yeah, I gathered." Harry frowned. "I think I would have been angry too, if I wasn't so tired. I mean, the man killed my parents and Dumbledore just let him get away because he didn't want to talk to you?!"

Alduin sighed. "It shouldn't be only about revenge for you, Harry. Remember what I said, you have to think about the future. You have to think about all those people he could kill, when you think about him. That is the best motivation, because it will prevent you becoming too willing to sacrifice innocent lives on the altar of your revenge, like Dumbledore seems wont to do."

Harry nodded. "I know." He paused. "Is this about revenge for Dumbledore, too?"

"If I understood what motivated that man, Harry, our life would be much easier, trust me. Now, to bed with you. You have to get back to school tomorrow morning."

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Alduin kept himself in check that night, but as soon as Harry was back at Hogwarts, he shut himself in his study, where he sat shaking and drinking.

He remembered that from the last year of the war, too, the returns from his encounters with Death Eaters, the nights spent drunk enough to forget why the Manor was so empty, and then the hangover potion in the morning and back to work.

Dibby, his personal elf, remembered as well, and he knew the drill. At eight the next morning, on the dot, he appeared with the potion in hand, giving it to Alduin without comment.

It wasn't strong enough to make him feel completely fine, he had drunk too much the previous day and night for that, but it was enough to allow him to drag himself up to his room and change and go down to breakfast.

Of course, one difference between the war and his current situation he had underestimated was Alexandra.

She gave him a piercing look over breakfast and said: "I assume you don't do this too often? I feel like that is something you should have mentioned before the wedding, if it was."

That, of course, was enough to flood Alduin with shame, and her gaze softened a bit. "I don't have any problems with the occasional coping mechanisms," she said, "as long as they aren't too frequent, like I said. After all, there is work to do."

She was right, of course, more right than she knew. She was only referring to politics, but there was more. Quirrell was over and done with, resting in his cushy new cell and awaiting trial, but Alduin had new things to worry about. In particular, Harry's scar.

It was one of the things that made him drink so much the day before. He had been nervous about it ever since Harry told him about it hurting at the Welcoming Feast, but now that he knew Quirrell had been possessed, his worry gained a whole new order of magnitude. This was not how normal curse scars acted.

They sometimes had residual dark magic in them, and so they showed up at dark magic detectors and could hurt in close proximity to unicorns or ingredients taken from them. There were cases known of those scars absorbing blood or similar.

But this was different. This was no dead residue, Harry's scar was obviously active. Riddle put something in it that reacted to his presence. Alduin had never heard of such thing in his life.

There were active dark magic receptacles, of course, plentiful – offensive ones, traps and such – but this was clearly something else. The recognition indicated at least something more personalized, if not straight out something more – dare he say it? - self-aware.

He had a lot of research to do.

Harry, on the other hand, was fully enjoying the leisure and comfort that came from knowing that there was no particular danger to him at school any more.

He told the entire story to his friends the evening after he returned to Hogwarts, when they all gathered in his dormitory. Sophie seemed really put out with him for not taking her with him. "I'm sorry," Harry said, "but I don't think my cousin would have let me. He wouldn't have liked putting you in danger. He didn't like putting me in danger, but at least it's him who's responsible for me. And it's easier to keep safe only one kid."

"Well, then you shouldn't have gone calling to your cousin like a baby! You should have taken us instead!"

Seamus gave a shocked burst of laughter, and Harry just stared at her. "Are you crazy?" He asked. "Fine, so let's go over it. We would all probably end up with broken bits and pieces after the jump. I guess Neville would have recognized the Snare, so there is some chance that at least one of us would have been able to light a fire and get it away from us. We would have gone through the keys like a breeze, and I guess Ron could have won the chess match too. The troll was already dead. The logic puzzle? I don't know. I solved it in the end, but only with heavy support and some hints from my cousin, and I don't think logic is a forte of any of us, no offence. But let's say I would have figured it out. There wasn't enough potion for six people in that bottle, I don't think more than two would have worked, even if we were all kids. So we would have argued about who goes and who stays and then we would have limped through the flames and – then what? Then Quirrell would have killed us."

"He might not have!" Sophie insisted stubbornly. "There would have been two of us, and we would have been ready for him!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Harry exploded. "There was Riddle in him! My own cousin couldn't contain his spirit, and he's really good! He just snapped his fingers and I was bound! Do you really think he couldn't have done the same to all of us? Or just kill us with another snap? He only needed one of us to get the stone out of the mirror..."

Neville put up his hand. "Harry. Remember that Sophie doesn't really know what Riddle is like. She hasn't grown up with the knowledge that he murdered members of her family. She doesn't automatically understand how terrible he is, like we do."

Harry nodded and tried to calm down. "Just...don't underestimate him," he said. "It's been made completely plain to me that I wouldn't have stood a chance if I had been there alone. My cousin also said that if it had been truly Riddle, not just Quirrell possessed by him, we would have both stood very little chance, even with the sneaky plan Mr. Kingsley came up with."

Ron, Neville and Seamus all nodded sagely. Yes, they knew enough stories about Riddle to fill their nightmares, and the idea that he had been here at school, their teacher, was inconceivable.


	41. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

Before Alduin could tackle the matter of Harry's mysterious scar, there was some clean-up to be done from the whole Quirrell business.

The first problem that was left over was Hagrid's pet dragon.

Alduin didn't particularly want to deal with either Aurelius or the Weasleys, so after some hesitation, he decided to go through Alexandra.

She had been making friends with Mrs. Weasley for months now, using the excuse of her pregnancy to solicit advice, in the hopes of influencing the lady towards manners and behaviour that were a little more acceptable. Ronald, at the very least, was clearly Harry's close friend and wasn't going anywhere, and as such didn't deserve to have to be ashamed of his parents.

And so, at one tea where Molly arrived with Ginevra, Alexandra mentioned something about a need for someone who understands magical creatures, and in no time at all had at her disposal a two-way mirror Charles sent his parents to be able to communicate with them at speed.

Alduin thanked her and shut himself in his office with it, initiating the call. "Mr. Charles Weasley?"

A red-headed young man with heavily freckled face appeared on the other side. "Yes? What is it? Has something happened to Mum and Dad?"

"No, no, they are fine. Your mother was so kind as to lend me this mirror to communicate with you. My name is Alduin Travers, and I am your brother Ronald's best friend's guardian. It seems the boys discovered something rather irregular at school." He paused. "This information is private – I haven't even told your mother the precise nature of my call – but it seems Rubeus Hagrid got himself a dragon egg."

Charles laughed. "He would," he said, "though I can't imagine how he got the money."

"It's a rather involved story. At any rate, what he needs now is a way to get rid of it again, preferably without alerting the law that he ever had it."

"Hmm. Do you have any idea when it is about to hatch?"

"According to Harry, Hagrid's estimate is in the next two or three weeks."

Charles frowned. "Damn. My family is coming to see me for Christmas, so I thought they could bring it to me, but not if it's already hatched, my mother would never not notice smuggling a hatched dragon." He sighed. "I'll try to send an express to some friends and make them cover up for it, but it'll be up to you – or rather, Harry – to convince Hagrid to give the hatching up. If I know him at all, it won't be easy."

"Nevertheless, thank you. Should I contact you again, or…?"

"Nah, I'll arrange it from my end. Tell Harry to give my regards to Ron!"

Alduin promised to do so, relived, and went to return the mirror. That was one matter off his chest.

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Harry had not been looking forward that conversation with Hagrid, and he had been right. "Hagrid," he said patiently, "you live in a small, wooden house. You must know you can't keep the dragon here forever."

"I wasn' plannin' to! Once it grew a little, I'd keep it in the forest!"

"And you think no one would notice a dragon in the forest? They fly and breathe fire, Hagrid!"

"Yeh don' understand...I always wanted one, I always wanted a dragon...I can' let him go..."

Neville sighed. "Look," he said, "you could get into a lot of trouble. My Gran taught me about what happened to people who bred dragons illegally, and sometimes they are event sent to Azkaban!"

At this, Hagrid blanched. "Azkaban?" He asked, and his voice had the slightest tremble in it. Harry didn't wonder. If people like Black were there, he certainly wouldn't want to end up locked up in the same place.

"At least you'll get to see it hatch," Ron said soothingly. "That's good, right?"

"It'll jus' make it harder to part from him...I already named him, yeh know...I want to call him Norbert..."

The boys exchanged a look. "Okay," Harry said, "and you'll have a few fays with Norbert at least before Charlie's contacts come for him. And maybe one day you could go to Romania and see him. That would be nice, right?"

Hagrid nodded, though he looked like someone died.

Two weeks later, as the boys and Sophie – who insisted that she had to see this, no matter she had never visited Hagrid before – watched 'Nobert' hatch and sneeze small flames, Harry was thinking that even those few days were going to be hard.

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Meanwhile, Alduin devoted himself to the other, more complicated problem left over from Quirrell.

All Defence classes at Hogwarts have been cancelled until Christmas, so Alduin had at first assumed it was because Dumbledore already had a new teacher in mind, and they could only come after the New Year. However, when he Floo-called Severus Snape to update him on what happened with Quirrell in detail, he asked about it, and apparently, the actual situation was very different.

"Dumbledore doesn't have anyone," Snape said. "He's trying to pull some favours, get some old friends to do it, but from the names I've heard him mention, it's going to be a disaster."

"Do you have any examples?"

"Well, you know. The less capable of the old Order members. Dedalus Diggle and such."

Alduin almost choked. "He's considering letting Diggle teach?"

"Apparently so."

Alduin was silent for a time. "Do you think," he said at length, "that if I found a more viable candidate, he would consider them?"

Snape shrugged. "Most likely, but I wish you good luck with that. There are no viable candidates left."

Not for an actual job at Hogwarts, there weren't, but Alduin had an idea.

He ran in his head over the families he knew who had children at Hogwarts at the moment and would, therefore, be interested in making sure they got a decent education. He knew there were no actual Defence experts left who would be willing to do this, but a moderately competent witch or wizard would be better than nothing. He would do it himself, but not with Alexandra about to give birth at the end of next term.

The Shacklebolts didn't have anyone not directly involved in the running of the family, so that was out of the question, and he preferred a Ravenclaw family for a teaching job anyway...In the end, he settled on the Yaxleys and, after discussing the matter with Alexandra, they went for a visit.

"Aunt Artemis!" Alexandra said as they entered the parlour, greeting the lady with a bright smile and a kiss to each cheek. "And Uncle Leartes, I'm so happy to see you. It was kind of you to make time for us."

Alduin's greeting was more muted, but pleasant as well. He liked the older generations of Yaxleys, and from what he knew of him, he liked Horatio as well. It was only Perseus he had trouble with, and even for that man, he could muster up some sympathy, even though he had been true menace at Hogwarts.

"Think nothing of it," Mrs. Leartes said now. "What did you need?"

"Not so much we," Alduin began, "as the students of Hogwarts..."

It took a while. Leartes was a Potions expert and his wife's area of interest was Herbology, so Defence wasn't exactly a natural choice for either of them. But the suggestion of Diggle teaching at Hogwarts was powerful, and in the end, Alduin and Alexandra wore them down together. Mrs. Leartes would teach at Hogwarts for a term, as a volunteer.

"Well," she said, "going to all those charity dinners was getting a little repetitive. A new kind of community work might be just what I need!"

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Christmas was upon them in no time at all, and Harry was almost bouncing with excitement on the train ride home. He enjoyed Hogwarts, but now he was going to have two weeks without any classes, and with no murderous teachers or dragons out to get him. Just with his friends and family. It was going to be heavenly.

Alduin was waiting for him on the platform, wrapped up in his fur cloak. "Alexandra is waiting at home," he said, "apparition in later stages of pregnancy is not advised."

Harry nodded, and cheerfully waved goodbye to his friends and promised to write often. Then, his cousin took his arm and they were gone.

They appeared in receiving room of the manor, and Alexandra stood there, beaming, her belly protruding markedly. "Hello," Harry said, a little shyly, fascinated. He had never really been this close to a pregnant woman before. "How is little Wynn?"

"Judging from the amount of kicking he does, he's perfectly fine!" She replied, laughing.

"Go change, Harry," Alduin said gently, "it's almost dinnertime."

Once he was dressed properly and seated at the table, the story of his first term at Hogwarts poured out of him, every little detail he could recall. His cousins listened attentively, even though they already knew a lot of it from his letters and mirror calls, and in return, Harry asked a lot of questions about Wynn and his cousins' time in his absence.

"Well, we spent most of the first two months in the Maldives, as you know," Alexandra explained, "finally having the honeymoon we talked about. We headed back just in time for Alduin to drop by at school after that troll fiasco."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's one thing I wanted to ask about, that occurred to me only when we were trying to arrange things with Charlie in Romania: how come the letters came and went so quickly?"

"The letters went here, and Tobby then put them in a special case that allowed us to retrieve them in the Maldives. It's much more practical, and we have always been doing it this way with my parents when we went for holiday there," Alduin explained. "And then, after we came back, Alexandra really started to cultivate her friendship with Mrs. Weasley," he added with a small smirk.

Harry stared, and Alexandra grimaced. "We're trying to help that family for your sake," she said, "and we know there is slightly more hope for her than for him, since she at least has had a proper education. So I've been exchanging letters with her while away, and then I started to ask her over. Frankly, my main motivation now is Ginevra. I like her a lot, and I think she could grow up to be a great person if only she was not squelched by the terrible influence of her family. Mrs. Weasley is coming around, but it will take time. I'm using my pregnancy as a great excuse to talk to her, after all, if there is someone who knows all about it, it is her. I have given her one of our newly adult house-elves as a birthday present-"

Harry frowned. "You can just give elves away? Just like that?"

Alexandra gave him an amused look. "From what Lenny told me, it was quite a riot in their quarters when she asked for a volunteer on a hard job where they would be the only elf. There is a lot of potential prestige in it, you see, it's a chance someone this young doesn't get often. Anyway, I can tell that Molly's relaxed a lot since then. Having less work helps that way. They are all going to Romania to see Charlie for the holidays, as I suppose you know-"

"Of course I know," Harry interrupted. "I helped to arrange it that they would take Norbert the Dragon with them there." Well, really, it was mostly Alduin and Charlie who arranged it, but Harry did have some small part, what with convincing Hagrid to let Norbert go.

"Of course. Anyway, it's the first holiday they will have in ages. That should help too, even though she is going with all of her children, so I don't imagine she will get that much rest. At least they could afford to book decent accommodation, so she won't have to cook and clean."

Harry listened to the improved chances of Ron's family, content. He felt sure that by the time they graduated Hogwarts, Ron would get over most of his problems, and perhaps even get that Head Boy position. Harry wasn't too sure about the Quidditch Captaincy – he was on the team already, so even if Ron was to join him next year, it would seem somewhat unfair that the captaincy didn't go to him, if he was playing longer.

Harry thought about this, wondering if he was selfish if he didn't want Ron to get a position he obviously cared so much about, while Harry himself didn't give a damn. But, he thought, it's not like I can get what I saw in the mirror. So surely it's not so wrong to wish for the captaincy at least.

He spent the first two days at home, catching up with the Traverses – Alexandra even allowed him to feel her belly, and it was really very strange to feel his little cousin kick – but on the third day of the holiday, he visited Neville in the afternoon. It was a little astonishing to realize that it'd only been a year since he'd been there for the first time, nervous about Mrs. Longbottom and about making Neville talk. He now felt like he had belonged to the wizarding world for ages, and his Muggle relatives were just a distant memory, growing more hazy every day, pushed back by his new, vivid and exciting ones. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Alduin had thought it wiser not to tell anyone about the events with Quirrell, and Harry had expected Neville would be upset about it, but the boy seemed mostly relieved. "I wouldn't know how to explain it to Gran," he said. "It all sounds so bizarre and unlikely...not that I doubt you," he hastened to add, "but it'd be harder for her, not having seen the Cerberus and all that."

"It was a weird year," Harry agreed. "It'll be almost strange for Hogwarts to be without all of this, and to have a proper Defence teacher."

"Do you know who's about to take the job?"

"Yeah, Horatio's grandmother, I think. Like, Defence isn't really her field, actually, but Alduin said all the people whose field it is have either already taught it, or are either heads of their houses, and so don't have the time, or, in Mrs. Theodore Burke's case, have small children."

"How did Alduin manage to convince Horatio's grandmother, anyway?" Neville asked curiously. "I mean, she's the future lady of a Noble house, and she's going to be working?"

"Not if I understood it right. I don't really get the difference, mind you, but from what Alduin told me, she won't be taking on a job, technically speaking. She'll just be helping out her grandson's school in need. She won't live there, only coming for the classes, and she won't be paid or anything, so I guess that's the major difference. It's a desperate measure, because, from what Alduin said, there are no actual Defence specialists willing to take the place anymore. Too risky, he said."

"Yeah, most people don't want to take the chance twice, and basically everyone has already tried at least once. Gran taught there the year after my father graduated, I think. She says she got away alive once, she won't take the risk again, especially not if she has me to take care of, as she'd said."

Harry grinned. "I wanted to say we'd take you in if something happened to her, but perhaps that's what she's afraid of!"

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Besides Alduin and Alexandra, the person Harry had missed the most while at Hogwarts was Abdulaziz Shafiq, so he was very happy when an informal dinner with that family was scheduled soon after he holidays started. "How have things been?" He asked at dinner, while the adults discussed some boring political stuff.

"Quiet," Abdulaziz replied with a laugh. "So many of you have gone to Hogwarts now, it seems like there are half the pre-Hogwarts kids there used to be, honestly."

"Are you the eldest now?"

"Well, I would have been - me and a bunch of other people, Harriet and Astoria, out of those you know, and Richard, of course – Richard Slughorn – and Pansy's brother, Zephyrus. We're all roughly the same age. But I've actually met the Weasley girl somewhere a few times in the last month or so, and she's a year older than us."

"Do you liked her?" Harry asked curiously. He wondered how Ron's sister was doing.

"She's okay, I guess. Harriet really likes her, I think. Astoria less so."

"So that's why you think she's okay!"

Abdulaziz laughed. "Yeah, Astoria's dislike is pretty solid recommendation, that's true enough. But in this case I think she just resents that Ginevra or what's her name is pulling Harriet towards Gryffindor, while Astoria was hoping her friend would follow in her sister's footsteps and they'd end up in the same house."

"I thought Harriet was decided on Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, well, that was in the summer, before her sister was sorted to Slytherin. Astoria hoped that might change things, but then Weasley came around..."

Harry smirked. "Given how much you declare you can't stand Astoria, you know quite a lot about her."

Abdulaziz groaned. "Well, that's what I'm saying! She won't leave me alone!"

Harry was amused by his friend's misery, but decided to be merciful. "Okay, I'll change the topic. Any more interesting stuff I've missed?"

"Hm, let me think...the Ollivanders have another baby, have you heard that one?"

"No, really?"

"Yeah. A boy, named Geralt. He was born just about a week ago."

"He'll be close in age to Wynn, then," Harry mused.

"Of course, that's the other big piece of news, your soon-to-arrive cousin. Yeah, I'm sure Mrs. Mercurius and your cousin's wife are happy about this, they're friends, aren't they?"

"Best friends, as far as I know, so yeah, I guess they can sort of...hang out together with the kids." Harry seemed to remember that Aunt Petunia used to do something like that with her friends and their children who were of similar age to Dudley. He sincerely hoped Wynn got some better version of this.

"All right, so that's all of my news. Now finally, it's your turn: tell me everything about Hogwarts!"

"Come on, you must have heard so many people tell you about it."

"Never mind that, I wanna hear it from you all the same."

And so Harry told what he could tell, about the classes and teachers and friends, and then he realized there was one thing that could interest Alduin, and so he told him about Hermione Granger.

"Wow," Alduin said. "She memorized all the books? And all the spells worked for her? Just like that, without a teacher? That's incredible. Wow."

"Yeah, Horatio seemed pretty impressed as well."

"I bet." Abdulaziz sighed wistfully. "I wish I had that kind of talent."

"Hey, cheer up! You still have more than a year to go…maybe you'll be able to do that by then!"


	42. The Riddle Story

AN: So, this should be me being all caught up on this story, and the following chapters should appear on schedule...for a while, at least.

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Harry could only exchange letters with most Gryffindors during the holiday, but the increased opportunity to see his other friends more than made up to it. Now that he was firmly in that House and had two close Ancient families friendships there, Alduin decided it wasn't too risky to ask Draco over, and that in turn gave Harry a chance to go to Malfoy Manor. The boys visited with each other every few days, and Harry found it straining not to tell Draco about the whole Quirrell escapade. He understood the risk, however, and concentrated on other topics. Mostly, they discussed Hogwarts, trying to decide how they liked it after the first term.

"I know you have problems with Pansy, but in spite of her, I love being in Slytherin," Draco said. Harry refrained from pointing out it wasn't always only Pansy he had problems with, and let his friend talk. "It really is like a second family, you know?" Draco continued. "Of course it helps that I have basically known all the people from my year for ages….except Blaise and Tracy, I guess, but they are all right too. It's a little strange that there really aren't many people from good families in the years above me – I mean, there is basically only Clement Avery, I don't know if you know him? He's a fifth year...and Marcus Flint, too, of course, you've played against him," Draco grimaced a little as he said that, "but apart from them, there is not a single Noble and Most Ancient House member, and then suddenly there are so many crammed in our year. It's weird."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too – how come there are so many our age? I think I will have to ask my cousin, I bet he will know, or Alexandra will – she is the historian, after all. I mean, I would understand if the number of children went up after the war, but we were born a year before it ended, weren't we?"

"You would know," Draco replied, and Harry gave him a quick look. It was the first time Draco mentioned Harry's past in front of him.

"It's not like I remember," he pointed out. "I know it from history lessons, just like you."

Draco hesitated for a moment, and then he asked: "Is it weird, learning about yourself?"

"I guess it would be weird if we did it at school with Binns, but then again, I don't think we will ever do anything but goblin rebellions with him. "

"Too true," Draco interjected. "That guy has obviously some issues with goblins."

"Anyway, so that would be weird, but when I went over it with Alduin, it wasn't like he was trying to pretend it didn't concern me, you know? He gave me all the context about my parents fighting and the reasons they were targeted and so on."

"Did he?" Draco now seemed curious. "I never heard about that."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm really not sure if it's public information..."

Draco looked hurt and tried to hide it. Harry sighed and decided to be relatively open. "Look, I would really like to tell you, and I would if that war was over and done with, but as it is, he will come back sooner or later and I really can't risk any sensitive information getting out."

"Why, because I'm a Slytherin?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No."

"Then why?" Draco insisted.

Harry looked at him intently. "Do you really want me to say it in plain speech?"

"Yes!"

Harry sighed. "Because your father used to be a Death Eater, Draco, and once that jerk comes back, he might join him again, either out of loyalty or out of fear."

"My father was under the Imperius in the last war!"

"Fine, whatever. Then there is a good chance he will be put under Imperius again, because obviously there must have been a reason Riddle wanted him on his side in the first place, and he couldn't resist once, so he'll likely be unable to resist again."

Draco was distracted. "Riddle?"

Harry sighed. Alduin really had been right, it seemed like no one but the Ravenclaws knew him under this name. "That's Voldemort's real name," he said.

"What? Riddle? You just made that up, didn't you?"

"I did not!" Harry protested indignantly.

"What kind of pure-blooded name is that?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. It's certainly not one of the big families, is it? I guess that's another thing to ask Alduin about..."

Draco shifted. "I could ask Father, too, I guess, but...we don't really talk about him." He seemed very uncomfortable.

Harry sighed again. "Draco, I understand," he said. "It's obviously not going to be an easy topic to talk about with your father. Don't worry about it, I will ask." He paused. "But we were talking about how you're enjoying being a Slytherin, weren't we?"

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On Christmas Eve, Harry and Alduin went to Godric's Hollow once more, and Alduin allowed Harry to do a spell to light the conjured candle himself, to feel like he did something for his parents. They left wreaths of tinsel and walked through the graveyard to go and see the house where the Potters died, and then visited Mrs. Bagshot, in what Harry thought was becoming a nice tradition. She didn't even grill him about his History homework _too_ much.

The present unwrapping in the morning was amazing. In spite of not being born yet, little Wynn got lots of gifts, and Alexandra did a spell that created a projection of him in the air to make it seem more like he was taking part in the celebrations. Harry was rather fascinated by the image – he had seen pictures of unborn children in his schoolbooks, but seeing one live and knowing it was his cousin was completely different.

His presents were enough to distract him a little, however. There were many new robes and books, but there were also displayers and new comics. From Draco, he got a new two-way mirror, and a note explaining that he had the other half. That would come in handy, he knew, since it was sometimes hard to talk at Hogwarts, what with being in different houses. From Ron, he got Flying with the Canons, and couldn't help sighing and rolling his eyes. Apparently. Ron's education still hasn't progressed to the part where they tell you you were supposed to give people gifts they would like, not gifts you liked.

Neville got him a book about Quidditch too, but a really interesting one this time, called Quidditch Through the Ages. He got mostly sweets from his other friends.

The present from Neville reminded him of something he had wanted to do, too, and so he went up to the attic and cautiously called out to Miss Brigit.

"Yes?" She said, terse as always. "What is it? Need help with Potions homework?"

"I will need that in time as well, I'm sure," Harry said, "but right now, I wanted to ask about something else. My friend, Neville Longbottom, is struggling in Potions and Professor Snape is really hard on him because he is a little clumsy and can't really prepare ingredients up to standard...is there any way to help him?"

Miss Brigit frowned. "Mr. Longbottom can still be a very good theoretical potioneer, or even practical if he buys his ingredients pre-prepared. Never a true Master, no, but then most of you won't be. And preparation is really only the basest, though important, part of the job. There is no sense in suppressing someone's interest because they lack in this department. If Severus Snape doesn't see it, I'll be happy to pop in to Hogwarts and remind him."

Harry panicked. "Oh no, please, I don't...I don't want to make it worse for Neville."

"Make it worse?" If ghosts could straighten in indignation, she did. "Young man, I'm a member of every Potions board in this country. If Severus Snape wishes to ever sell another potion again, he will not react to my reprimand by _making it worse_."

And that was that.

Harry really hoped she was right and knew what she was doing. But then, the idea of Miss Brigit not knowing what she was doing was so absurd he scarcely dared to entertain it.

Apart from his talk with her, Christmas Day passed mostly in leisurely reading, as it had the year before, but during dinner, Harry finally remembered Draco's questions and asked them.

Alduin smirked. "The first one is easy enough," he said. "There was a lull in the war in '79, and many people thought it was on its way to end or at least grow much less extreme. So they decided that if they wanted to have children, now was the right time for it. Unfortunately, it was only a calm before the storm..." He paused. "As for the other part, it's actually quite funny. Draco was right that Riddle is not a pureblood name. It's actually a Muggle name. You see, Riddle is a half-blood."

"What?" Harry dropped his silver fork, which clattered on his plate and earned him a disapproving look from his cousin.

"Yes," he confirmed. "It would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad. His mother was a witch, but his father was a Muggle. He left her, hence Riddle's hatred of Muggles, and she died giving birth to him and left him in a Muggle orphanage."

"That's terrible!" Harry was honestly shocked to hear Riddle even had regular parents, given the kind of monster he was, the monstrous face on the back of Quirrell's head. And that it was something like this...

"Yes, it is," Alduin agreed, "even though it hardly excuses what he did afterwards."

"No, I didn't mean that it does.," Harry explained, though the idea of Riddle having a tragic backstory _was_ disconcerting. "I mean, I grew up with Muggles and they treated me pretty badly, and I don't hate them all...but still."

"It influenced him in many ways," Alexandra joined in. "He had this quest to gain immortality, and it was probably largely influenced by his mother dying. He didn't want to be powerless, like he was as a child in the orphanage, and he didn't want to be mortal, like his mother, and he hated Muggles, because of his father. It's rather fascinating. But then, we've known how far childhood traumas can push one for a while now."

"Aren't there some magical orphanages?" Harry wondered.

Alduin shrugged. "This usually works through families, but the Ministry does have some child protection services. The trouble, you see, is that his mother left him in that orphanage. It was treated as her dying wish that he stays there."

Harry frowned. "But why? I mean, why did she leave him there?"

"No one really knows," Alexandra explained, "but it is possible that she didn't know much about the Ministry at all. The Gaunts were a terrible family, degenerated to idiocy. Merope never attended Hogwarts, and her father was unlikely to have given her any education at all, from what we know about him."

Harry nodded and chewed his turkey silently for a moment, thinking. "How come Draco doesn't know?" He asked then.

"Almost none of the Death Eaters do," Alduin replied.

"But why?"

He shrugged. "Unless you actively try to find out...well, it's not like Riddle would boast of it, is it?"

"But if they swore loyalty to him….I thought they would at least want to know who he was!"

Alduin shook his head. "They were interested in the power he could give them, and in the changes he wanted to make. They knew he wasn't one of the great families – they knew all of their members – so they didn't really want to find out. I think most just assumed he was from some lesser pureblooded family and left it at that."

"And how did you find out?"

Alexandra smiled. "Oh, the historians know. They have known almost from the beginning, even though they are not eager to publish the information anywhere, for fear of repercussions. But, you see, he boasted Slytherin blood, so it was relatively easy from there. The Gaunts were the heirs, but there was no Gaunt left alive, so unless he was lying, Merope or her brother must have had a son. A little investigation in the village where they lived was enough to give us a name, and once the name was found on Hogwarts records and the exam results and other details were considered, it was clear enough."

"What do you mean by other details?"

Alexandra raised her eyebrow. "Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened during his studies. Someone else was framed for it, but the accusation was so absurd none of the historians ever took it seriously. Once this connection was made, it was clear as a day."

Harry considered, finishing his meal and sitting back, completely full and very grateful wizards didn't wear trousers. Robes were definitely much more comfortable for stuffing oneself. "And you say none of this is in any of the history books?" He asked.

"No, and it won't be until Riddle is defeated once and for all," Alexandra said firmly.

"But, I mean, I'm sure people would be less afraid of his of they knew all this!" Harry argued.

"Do you think so? His spells aren't less deadly because you know who his mother was." Alexandra paused. "All the Ravenclaw families know what I have just told you, and we share the information as it is needed. The historians know, as I've said. Dumbledore knows, and he isn't broadcasting it either – which is the most surprising part, honestly, because it's not like he doesn't have big enough target on his head already. He could afford to do that without any danger to himself."

"Why doesn't he, then?"

Alexandra shrugged. "I suggest you ask him."

"After what he did to you this year," Alduin added, "nothing that man does surprises me any more."

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Harry really wanted to tell Draco about Riddle, but he didn't need to be a genius to see that if all those historians kept quiet about it out of fear, he shouldn't give a tip-off to a possible Death Eater's son. But he needed to tell someone, and Neville was the obvious choice.

"He is a half-blood?" His friend stared, turning away from the fire in front of which they were sitting. "But how come no one knows?"

So Harry went and explained the whole thing. Neville frowned. "I don't like it," he said. "I think people should know."

"Yeah, so do I, mate, but it's not really our call, is it? We can't just decide to put those people at risk..."

"I guess."

"And, I mean, it's not really an issue right now, since he seems to be gone for a while, at least."

"But if he comes back again?" Neville insisted.

"Then I'll do my best to convince my cousins to let the cat out of the bag. I'd be so great if people just laughed at him, you know! Not that I think you should laugh at half-bloods, obviously, but..."

"Yeah, I know. Him being one is totally rich."

Harry nodded in agreement. They stayed silent for a moment, and he looked out of the window in frustration with the weather. It was the most terrible kind of December – wet snow was falling, but it didn't keep on the ground. Harry missed their snow fort from last year. "So how was your Christmas haul?" He asked.

Neville smiled. "I got a two-way mirror like yours to talk to Gran," he said.

Harry grimaced. Two-way mirrors were cool, but in Neville's case, it just meant he would be forced to talk to his Gran very often.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking," Neville agreed, "but honestly, it's better now for some reason. I don't know, maybe she thinks now I'm at Hogwarts, I'm more of a grown-up or something?"

"Well, you are! You've changed a lot in the year I've known you, you know."

"Well, you've changed too."

"I bet!"


	43. Back to the Castle

The family friendly part of the New Year's party took place at the Shafiqs', which meant Harry had an opportunity to hang out with a crowd he hadn't seen properly since the summer. He came across Horatio Yaxley and after a bit of catching up, he asked: "How's Hermione Granger doing? I haven't really spoken to her since something like October at the latest..."

Horatio chuckled. "How is she doing? She is the best in her year, and probably better than most second-years. There is a person or two in my year who think she could give them a run for their money, at least in some subjects."

Harry blinked. "Wow, really? I mean, I thought she was clever, but..."

Horatio grinned at him. "She's more than just clever. She has crazy work ethics and absolutely incredible memory. And heaps of magical power. It's the kind of combination you don't came across every day."

Harry considered this. Mostly, he tended to hear about how irritating she was from people, so it was good to see the other side of the story as well. "I see that maybe I shouldn't have convinced her to go to Ravenclaw," he remarked. "She would have certainly gotten us lots of points."

Horatio shrugged. "Yeah, but she would have also driven you spare. I know there are people in her year who find her studying enthusiasm a little exhausting, and we are Ravenclaws for Merlin's sake. I can't imagine what you would have done with her."

"Made use of her in some daring plan, I'm sure." Not that Harry had that many daring plans under his belt – the one thing that could maybe be considered, the whole business with Riddle, well, he would have never risk Hermione's life by taking her along, just as he hadn't taken his other friends.

"Ha!" Horatio seemed very amused. "You wish. One of the things she would have really hated about Gryffindor is all the rule-breaking. She loves rules."

Harry noticed that his friend seemed to know an awful lot about Hermione, considering she was two years below him. He knew from experience how it was sometimes hard to find time for people from other years. "You talk to her a lot, then?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I've kinda taken her under my wing. I could see her potential the moment she said she'd learned all the books by heart and that all the spells she tried at home worked for her. I don't know if you know this, Harry, but that is bloody incredible."

"Yeah, Abdulaziz said something like that when I mentioned it to him."

"And he was right. So I really encouraged her to be a Ravenclaw, and then when I saw that some people were treating her not that nicely – nobody's perfect, after all, and what she has in talent, she lacks in social graces – I took it upon myself to explain to them why exactly that was not a good approach. So now she comes to me when she can't figure something out on her own...usually, that means I get to break a sweat trying to do it, too!"

"That's really great of you, you know," Harry said, appreciating how Horatio obviously didn't care at all that Hermione was Muggle-Born.

The older boy shrugged. "Not really," he said. "She is going to be a force to be reckoned with when she is older, and it will be very good and very useful to have her on my side."

Harry frowned. "So if she wasn't that talented, you wouldn't have helped her?"

"Harry, if she wasn't that talented, I would have told her to stick to Gryffindor and she wouldn't have been my problem."

"True, I guess."

Harry wandered away, thinking about it. Ravenclaws. They were fun to talk to, but he just couldn't see eye to eye with them in their approach to life. He wondered what Draco, as his ultimate Slytherin friend, would have thought about it. He would have probably had more understanding for Horatio's approach than Harry, but at the same time Harry knew that if Draco really disliked someone, no amount of advantageousness of the relationship could convince him to cultivate it. But he didn't know if that was a Slytherin thing, or just a Draco thing. Daphne didn't really seem to look at people that way at all, and Theo...Harry actually didn't know about Theo. The boy kept his cards co close to his chest Harry had no idea how he approached the people he met.

So he changed his tack and considered the Ravenclaws he knew. Alexandra and Alduin were both rather like Horatio in this – or at least, perhaps not quite out for what they could get, exactly, but absolutely able to put away their personal feelings. Alexandra apparently spent the last few months making friends with Mrs. Weasley, for crying out loud! Harry knew perfectly well that she didn't enjoy the company. But she still did it, because she thought it would help them, and indirectly Harry.

Harry tried to imagine spending so much time with Pansy or Zach and shook involuntarily. Yeah, he was pretty sure that Ravenclaw wouldn't have been the house for him.

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Harry sat with all the Gryffindors on the train back to school, but his other friends never got a chance to say much, because Ron took the floor for himself. The Romanian dragon reserve was, apparently, the coolest place in the world.

Not that it was hard to believe. A place full of dragons, and people who actually could control them? There were probably not many more impressive jobs to be found. Harry had never met Charlie, Ron's dragon-taming brother, but now he wished he had.

"Will Charlie be home during the summer?" He asked Ron when the redhead paused in his story to take a breath.

"He doesn't know yet, but he hopes he will be able to get here for at least a week. Mum misses him, I know, especially with Bill being gone too."

"And what about him, will he be home during the holidays?"

"I think so. He always comes for his vacation sometime during the school break, so..."

"It would be great if he came this time, too. I'd like to meet him."

Sophie was frowning. "It's not fair!" She said. "I want to meet them too, but because I'm Muggle-Born, I don't get to do anything fun."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He would have liked nothing better than to invite Sophie to stay with him during the summer, but it wasn't his house, and he didn't know how thrilled his cousin would be. He knew Alduin was not one of those completely prejudiced against the Muggle-Born, but well, not calling them any derogatory terms was one thing and asking them to his house was another, wasn't it? Especially Sophie, who didn't exactly have the best manners. He couldn't really recall any visitors who weren't rich purebloods. He would have to ask about this during Easter – perhaps Sophie could come at least for a day or something…

Dean, meanwhile, was saying: "Hey, I resent that! We get plenty of fun at home."

Sophie grinned. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

Neville added: "And what about your brothers? I'm sure you get to do fun things with your brothers. And you don't see them all year, and you see us, so shouldn't you spend time with them?"

Sophie shrugged. "I guess you're right," she said. "It's just that I haven't been at Hogwarts that long, so for me, it's still 'same old brothers' and 'new exciting wizards and witches'. I guess it will change in a couple of years. I was really happy to see them after almost four months at school, anyway."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I can imagine. I mean, I really missed the Traverses too, and I've seen my cousin a couple of times during the school year, and I've only known them for a year. It must be hard leaving your brothers behind."

Sophie shrugged again. "Well, they can be a real pain sometimes too, so I actually think it's great to be able to relax and get away from them for a while. Then I'm all the more happy to see them!"

The others laughed, and Ron said: "I kinda know what you mean. It was better in many ways when Fred and George left for school for most of the year. Their jokes were much more funny when I only had them three months per year." He shrugged. "But it's better at Hogwarts, anyway. They have lots of people to concentrate on. At home, it was mostly me – and Percy sometimes, too."

"Were they very vicious?" Sophie asked curiously, and a little gleefully, or at least it seemed so to Harry.

Ron frowned. "They changed my teddy bear into a spider once, when I was three."

Even Sophie had to admit that that was vile. "On purpose?" She asked, shocked.

"I don't think so – I mean, they were five – but still. It was terrifying! And they keep experimenting on Percy's rat, too."

"Percy has a rat?" Harry was surprised. "I thought he had an owl, like you..."

"Yeah, he has both. Scabbers – the rat – is really old, though. He's had it for ages, and he didn't have the heart to give him away when he got his owl for becoming a prefect. But he's ashamed of it, I think. He always hides it..."

"So why do the twins experiment on it?"

"Well, Percy's had it for a really long time, like I said. Ever since I remember. And that's much longer than rats normally live, see? So Fred and George became convinced it's some kind of extra special magical rat, and they keep trying to get it to show its powers. Or that's what they say, anyway. I think they just really want to irritate Percy."

"Why use an innocent rat to do it, though?" Lavender protested.

"Right?" Ron agreed. "Especially when there are so many other ways to get to him!"

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Harry knew that Mrs. Leartes Yaxley, Horatio's grandmother and Alexandra's aunt, was meant to be their new Defense teacher, but he had never spoken more than a few words to her, so he was curious to see what she would be like as a teacher. Though, after the first class, he thought that he really could have guessed. She was one of the Ravenclaw crowd, after all.

She was poised and strict and demanding, and managed to convey so much disdain in one look that everyone scrambled to do their best in her class. She gave them pop quiz in the first class, to see how much they have learned, and later stated, dismayed, that obviously Quirrell must have been absolutely useless when it came to Defence. "Yeah," Harry muttered to his friends, very quietly, "he was more the offensive type."

The sniggers earned them a disgusted look from Professor Yaxley.

Soon after she started teaching, Harry was accosted by Hermione Granger in the corridor. "Harry," she said, a little breathlessly, "Horatio told me it was your cousin who convinced his grandmother to teach here. Can you please give him my thanks? She is a brilliant teacher!"

Harry was a little taken aback. "I guess," he said, "though the main thanks should go to her, I think, for agreeing to it."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, well, but I can hardly go to her and thank her for taking over for Quirrell, can I? It would look like I was trying to suck up to her."

Harry's astonishment grew. Apparently, Horatio really did take her under his wing, and taught her quite a lot about manners. And about ingratiating herself with the right people too, if he wasn't too mistaken, but he didn't mind. Hermione would probably do well among Alduin's intellectual friends once she was older, and if Horatio taught her manners, she'd fit right in. He remembered what Alduin had told him about Dumbledore. Perhaps Hermione could become something like that, sponsored by the rich Ravenclaws in her research?

"No, I guess you can't," he said aloud. "Okay, I will pass on your thanks, though I'm sure my cousin will say that it was his duty to help save our education in Defence."

"That only makes it better!" Hermione assured him as she rushed away, probably to study.

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Once Harry was back at school, Alduin had time to research Harry's mysterious connection to Riddle properly, and he acted with more urgency now that he knew how ready to act Riddle was. He spent weeks on it, and finally narrowed it down to two options.

Either it could be an alert mechanism, or it could be some kind of residue connection to Riddle.

All of his research showed that an alert mechanism like this could not appear accidentally, and since it was highly unlikely Riddle would have created in on purpose, the only other option was that whatever spell or ritual Lily Potter had used to save her son, this was a result of it. He would have to look into the possibilities of that.

The other alternative, a residue connection, was much more troubling. Try as he might, he could not come up with any solution that would not, effectively, be a form of partial possession. Even more astonishing was that Riddle was apparently unaware of it, otherwise he would have tried to make some use of it instead of just trying to kill Harry, Alduin was almost sure of that. Still, a possession where the possessing was unaware of it? That seemed extremely unlikely, and gave Alduin some hope that the first option was the true one and that Harry's scar was merely a result of Lily's protective magic.

He would have to ask some of his transcendental sciences friends over to try and help him solve this riddle, and he would have to think very carefully about how much he would tell them.

And there was another business that needed attending to, too – the prophecy.

Alduin was unable to make sense of what Dumbledore was doing this year, and he thought the prophecy had to be the key, since it was, as far as he knew, the only large unknown factor in this. So, what he had to do was talk to Croaker and convince him that it was a good plan to let him hear it.

Normally, only those whom the prophecies concerned could listen to them. Alduin had no intention of letting Harry do that unless he knew what the prophecy contained in advance, but fortunately, he just happened to be Harry's guardian, which gave him the right to act in Harry's name until the boy was of age. So this part should be easy enough.

Consequently, he Flooed to Croaker's house on Saturday to discuss the matter.

He was not quite so uncouth to start off with that, of course, so they shared a glass of whiskey and talked about their lives and work before Alduin finally got to the point.

„I've been wondering when this request would come, ever since I heard you were Potter's guardian," his friend said, toasting him with his almost empty glass. „Yeah, of course, it's not a problem. Drop by any day during business hours and we will do it."

Alduin drained the rest of his drink. „Can I come on Monday?"

„In a hurry, are you? Sure, but what's the rush, if I may ask?"

Alduin hesitated for a moment. „There were...strange things happening at Hogwarts last term, strange things engineered by Dumbledore. I struggle to understand why he did what he did, and think that knowing the prophecy would help in this respect."

„You've piqued my curiosity, but I won't plague you. I can see you're uncomfortable talking about this."

„Sorry, Thomas. After Riddle's over and done with, I'll tell you all about this, but at present, I have to be very careful." Alduin trusted Croaker, but he also knew his friend was an employee of the Ministry and certain loyalties went with that, loyalties he didn't wish to test.

„Sure. No hard feelings. See you on Monday, then!"


	44. Professor Trelawney's Prediction

AN: On this grim day, have a new chapter at least. I wish it was more cheerful, but I guess we can tell ourselves we're still doing better than Alduin?

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Alduin did, indeed, go to the Department of Mysteries on Monday.

"You do have your guardianship of Harry formalized and everything?" Croaker assured himself as he led him through the time section to the Hall of Prophecies.

"Yes, of course," Alduin replied.

"Good. Then this should be quite straightforward..."

Croaker led them through the long rows of shelves with pale, glimmering orbs on them to row ninety-seven, where he stopped in front of one sphere looking exactly like the others. The label on the shelf underneath said: _S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D., Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter._

So it was Trelawney to Dumbledore after all. It was satisfying to have this confirmation, and Alexandra would be even happier to know, given that it was speculation in her circles that led to this conclusion.

"So...what do I do?" Alduin asked.

"Just take the orb," Croaker said. "If the formalities are in order, it'll recognize you as Harry."

"Does this work until the children are seventeen, or just fourteen?" Alduin asked curiously as he reached for the prophecy.

"Fourteen. After that, you'd need Harry's solemn agreement to listen to it." Alduin nodded, the orb now in hand, and Croaker added: "There are soundproofed booths in the back to listen to it in privacy. Just tap it with your hand three times and say play."

Obediently, Alduin headed in that direction, a little nervous but glad there was at leats a place where he could listen to the prophecy in peace.

Once he heard it, however, there was little enough peace left for him.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

 _Okay,_ Alduin told himself. _Okay._

But then, _this was the_ _p_ _rophecy Riddle_ _knew_ _?_ _Fuck._

There really was no other word appropriate for the situation, and so Alduin just kept repeating it in his head over and over, trying to somehow stop his shaking.

 _You knew he was The Boy Who Lived when you took him in,_ he told himself. _You should have expected this._

Yet somehow, he hadn't.

Or perhaps he had, and he had just not expected to feel the way he felt after finding out.

Like a giant punched him in the gut.

 _Okay_ , he told himself again, sitting in that booth and trying to breathe deeply. Calm down. Think about this rationally.

It took him several tries.

 _He will have power the Dark Lord knows not_. That, at least, sounded optimistic, he tried to tell himself. Prophecies were notoriously fickle and traitorous in this respect, of course, but still, it was something. Harry had it in him to defeat Riddle, it seemed.

It sounded hard to believe, imagining his eleven year old ward now, but Dumbledore clearly acted in accordance with it. While simply throwing Harry at Riddle and hoping the prophecy would work its magic was a strategy with many problems, looking at it rationally, Alduin couldn't entirely fault the old man. The prophecy was extremely unclear about the power in question, so it was, in many ways, a fair attempt. Experimenting on children was always reprehensible, of course, but...but.

The older Harry got, the more formally trained he would be, and it was possible – not certain, just possible – that that would impair that power of his.

Rationally, there wasn't really that much to blame Dumbledore for.

But this was Harry.

This was _his ward._

He wasn't going to allow this, he just wasn't. The boy's life had been messed up enough already by this war, he didn't need to die for it as well! Not when he was eleven!

Alduin took another deep breath.

It wouldn't do to let his upset get the better of him. He needed to think about this, think very carefully.

He was not willing to leave Harry untrained, push him into danger and simply hope for the best. This required consideration. It was likely he'd have to visit Dumbledore.

He left the Ministry as if in a daze, not really even remembering saying goodbye to Croaker. Alexandra was entertaining Patritia Ollivander and her infant son when he got home, and Alduin waited in another parlour, pacing impatiently. Perhaps he shouldn't tell her? He didn't know her that well, after all, and while he trusted her in general, this was extremely sensitive information. One wrong word to anyone…

But she was his wife, and Harry lived in her house, too. She had the right to know.

And he trusted himself to be able to stay rational or collected, at least a little, when he talked to her. It would do him good, he decided. Talking to someone would help him collect his thoughts, and talking to her in particular would help him do so efficiently. If he tried to talk to Abdullah...he wasn't sure what would happen, but it wouldn't be pretty. This was no time for mental breakdowns.

Finally Alexandra bid her friend farewell, and he burst into the receiving room as soon as Patritia disappeared in the flames on one of its fireplaces. "I need to speak to you," he said quickly.

Alexandra raised her eyebrows, but they returned to the morning parlour and she sat down on the sofa, giving him an expectant look.

As he recounted the prophecy, however, some of her poise disappeared. When he finished, she was silent for a long while before she took a deep breath and said: "Very well. I'll research past prophecies and try to see if they can shed any light on what we have here." She frowned. "Mark him as his equal? What does that mean?"

"Gods only know," Alduin said honestly, before remembering his determination to stay collected and rational and adding: "My main dilemma now is: should I train him or not?"

"You have to," she replied immediately. "You can't just leave him to his fate, whatever else happens. He's your ward, it's your responsibility to make sure he's as safe as possible."

Alduin felt relieved to be hearing this from someone else, someone less biased than he was. "You're right," he said.

"That also mean you will have to tell him the contents of the prophecy," she added.

"Eventually, yes, but-"

"No, not eventually," Alexandra interrupted him, "as soon as you start training him. He needs to understand what's happening."

"In the summer, then? He'll be twelve!" Alduin tried to push back the edge of desperation in his voice.

She nodded. "I agree, it's brutal, but then we don't know when he will need to set the prophecy off. It might be when he's thirteen! He's already met Riddle once, for gods' sake."

Alduin closed his eyes for a moment. _I was doing my best to forget that particular fact,_ he thought. Aloud, he said: "Good point. Yes, you're right. It's just...when I took him from the Dursleys, I hoped to give him a better life, and now..."

Alexandra shrugged. "I venture he will still be happier with that hanging over his head than he would have been with his Muggle relatives. Leaving aside the fact that the prophecy would still have been valid."

That was a good point too, and encouraged by this, Alduin continued: "There's another thing, too. I need to speak to Dumbledore."

She considered this. "Yes," she agreed, "but wait. Give yourself time to think about this carefully. You need to be clear-headed for it."

He nodded, and pressed her hands. "Thank you."

She smiled. "It's my job."

She left, and Alduin departed for his study with some urgency. His whiskey awaited him. He had really hoped he wouldn't have another opportunity to make use of it so soon after his last overindulgence, but there were some situations that simply called for it.

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Harry was enjoying Hogwarts without any kind of danger, apart from losing some points or making Filch angry. Even Snape actually improved. Clearly, his talk with Miss Brigit had been effective, because he now ignored Harry and Neville as much as he could, and whenever he couldn't, his politeness was so frosty that Harry half-expected to find his potion freezing over. He began to grade their homework to an even more insane standard, but Harry would take it over the bullying of Neville in class any day.

He had had hopes there'd be enough snow after the holiday to have some fun with it in the afternoons, but unfortunately, the temperature had gone up and it had mostly melted even in Scotland. Outside was still rather undesirable, in fact, so apart from his Quidditch practices, Harry tended to stay in the castle, huddled in his robes with warming spells on them. On occasion, he lend his similarly equipped cloak to some of his friends when they were outside the Gryffindor common room. Especially in the corridors, the wind sometimes appeared to get inside the castle and dance around them, chasing them with vicious glee.

The common room, on the other hand, had never before been so attractive, and Harry was very grateful for the two-way mirror that enabled him to talk to Draco without leaving its comfort. "You have a fireplace?" Draco was asking now. "How is that fair?"

"Ha, which is the best house now?"

"I doubt you have such magnificent view of the lake as we do," Draco returned, "but yeah, okay, that's a definite bonus point in winter, I have to concede that."

"They have a fireplace?" Harry heard Daphne's muffled voice from the other side. "That's it, I'm changing houses. The family tradition and all that, you know."

"You'd betray your own house for a bit of warmth?" Draco asked, mock-offended.

"I'd betray anyone for a bit of warmth, right now," was Daphne's retort.

"Then I'm sure you're in the right house," Harry quipped, and smiled apologetically at Draco's offended look. "I take it Daphne isn't taking the weather well?" He asked.

"No. I swear, the girl should have been born in France at least."

"Well, liking the sun is in the bets tradition of your house, isn't it? I mean, snakes always bake on the rocks..."

"So, what, we should confiscate your common room with the argument that it rightfully belongs to us?"

"No, you should cut Daphne some slack and borrow her a warming-charmed cloak of yours."

Draco rolled his eyes. "She has her own. Millicent says she's just too thin to ever be properly warm."

"Does that matter? Because it would explain why I was cold all the time!"

"You're cold all the time because you keep giving your cloak to other people," Draco replied drily. "It's simple, really."

"I just think it's irritating the school list doesn't even have a recommendation for this...I mean, even the people who-" he lowered his voice, "even the people who can afford it, if they had never gone to Hogwarts, they don't know it's needed!"

Draco grimaced, and asked: "Yeah, but can such people afford it?"

"You're joking, right?" Harry stared. "Talk about this to Justin from Hufflepuff. He was complaining about cold one day on the way from Herbology and Hannah told him about clothing with these charms on it and then about owl order service and like a week later, he got his entire Hogwarts wardrobe new, with the charms on it, sent by his parents. So I'd say it's safe to estimate that yeah, they can afford it."

"And his parents are completely Muggle?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Come on, Draco, surely you didn't imagine there were no rich Muggles?"

"I dunno. I just sort of always imagined them poor and not too educated, which I guess most of them are..."

Harry looked around nervously, to make sure no one was listening in. Neville was, but he only rolled his eyes at this. "About as much as the witches and wizards, I guess," Harry said. "Listen, I have to go, there's a Potions homework to finish, but trust me, there are plenty of Muggles who are super rich. Maybe my cousin can take you with us when we next go sightseeing somewhere."

Draco didn't seem interested in the idea of Muggle sightseeing, and Harry put the mirror away, not in the mood to argue. "Sometimes," he complained to Neville, "it's exhausting."

"But I think you're doing a good job," Neville replied. "Imagine that, he clearly knew nothing about rich Muggles!" Neville blushed a little. "I mean, I don't really know much about them either, but, you know, even I knew they existed."

Harry thought this was rather too much like talking about some near-extinct animals, and was glad neither Dean nor Sophie were there at the moment.

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Abdullah, Alduin decided, really knew him too well.

They were dining with the Yaxleys that night, but almost as soon as he walked into the room, Abdullah came to him and asked in a low voice: "What's going on?"

Alduin sighed. He'd been keeping mostly to himself the last two weeks, waiting for his immediate reaction to the prophecy to pass, assessing the situation and evaluating options.

And drinking. Drinking a lot.

He tried to keep it controlled enough that Alexandra wouldn't have more reason to give him one of her disappointed and disapproving looks, but he wasn't quite succeeding. Every morning at breakfast, they were growing more and more pronounced. They were edging towards disgusted, in fact. Alduin hated it, but he needed a way to cope, damn it! It had worked quite well in the war, so he didn't see why it shouldn't work now.

He had not called on Abdullah in the meantime, precisely because he knew his friend could read him so well. That, too, had worked perfectly well in the war.

"A potential disaster," he replied as lightly as he could, "but it's a long-term kind of thing – I hope! - and definitely not something to be discussed in a Yaxley drawing room."

Abdullah nodded minutely to indicate his understanding and, without batting an eyelash, asked: "So how's Alexandra doing? How long do you have left until Wynn is born?"

"Not even a month to go," Alduin replied, "and she says she can't wait to be able to walk free again." He grimaced. "Makes me feel bad for putting her through it, really." In reality, he chiefly felt bad for getting wasted every night while his pregnant wife lay a floor above him, but well. A way to cope.

Abdullah shrugged. "She knew what she was signing up for, didn't she?"

Alduin almost laughed out loud at how fitting that question was for his real problem. _No, I really don't think she did_. "In theory, yeah, but I don't think pregnancy is something you can fully understand without experiencing it."

"Is she considering stopping at one child, then?"

Alduin frowned. The thought was alarming, and made him actually consider trying to find a different coping mechanism. What if Alexandra told him she didn't intend to have another child with a drunk? But, well, the thought of the nightmares that have resurfaced since he heard the prophecy made him forget such ideas pretty quickly. Whiskey kept nightmares at bay, and it certainly tasted better than Dreamless Sleep. And it was less addictive. Probably. "You know she wouldn't do that," he said aloud, trying to convince himself. "No, she doesn't blame me or anything either, it's me who feels bad." That was almost true. He didn't think Alexandra blamed him, exactly. She was just...well, disappointed. Like she had expected better of him. It was rather disconcerting how much this was reminiscent of his grandmother.

"Don't you always?" His friend asked conversationally. "Come on, let's rejoin the others before I'm tempted to ask you personal questions."

They came across Mrs. Leartes, and the conversation topic presented itself naturally. "Harry's doing great," she said. "And I mean truly great. He seems to be a natural at Defence."

 _Good. Gods know he will need it._ Still, Alduin was a little surprised. "Hm, interesting. It wasn't either of his parents' forte, if I recall correctly, even though James was certainly decent at it." Even Lily probably was, by the end. It's not like they had a choice. "And what is the experience like for you?"

"Exhausting," she admitted freely. "I'll ask Dorian or Titus Davies to take over next term, but I'm thinking I'll have to keep it secret how exhausting it actually is."

"If you can convince one of them, then by all means, use all methods at your disposal," Alduin said with a laugh. "You shouldn't feel any guilt about it. It's supposed to be Dumbledore's job to find people for this, anyway – or try and break the curse, really."

Mrs. Leartes gave him an amused look. "Yes, well, that might be easier said than done."

He shrugged. "Granted, but it's been on the job for about thirty years. Don't tell me he couldn't have done _something_ in all that time."

"Honestly, after having this kind of close experience with him, I understand him even less than before, so I really can't give you any answers."

Yes, Alduin thought, I can relate to that _very_ easily.


	45. The Birthday Party

Harry was being kept busy by preparations for his second Quidditch match, and what he tended to view as his first real one, given that there was an interfering Dark Lord present during the last. He had explained to Oliver that Quirrell had been the cause of his misfortunes then, and it made the captain honestly excited, believing that if Harry managed to catch the Snitch in spite of his broom being jinxed, it would be a piece of cake this time. "Just let us play a little too, would you?"

That gave Harry a pause. "So if I see a Snitch real early in the match, should I go for it or not?" He asked.

"Go for it, by any means," Oliver said immediately. "I don't want our chances to win the cup ruined because I wanted to enjoy myself a little more."

The other team members were rather inclined to make Wood eat his words when Harry had ended the match after five minutes. "Just two goals, that's all!" Angelina was complaining in the changing rooms. "We didn't have time to do anything more! It barely even counts as a match!"

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered sheepishly.

"Don't you be sorry," Fred Weasley said, "it's somebody else's fault for giving you such advice," and he looked intently at Wood.

The captain was unrelenting, however. "You will thank me when we win the cup," he said, but the other team members looked doubtful.

All in all, Harry was rather glad to get out to the rest of his House. There, the mood was celebratory in an uncomplicated way, and especially Ron was practically jumping up and down with excitement. "You were bloody incredible!" He shouted.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, and accepted the much more muted congratulations from Neville, too.

"It's a pity it didn't last a little longer," Sophie opined. "I mean, the last time we were too worried about you to enjoy it properly, and now it was almost over before it began!"

"You should go talk to Angelina about that," Harry mumbled. "She could give you an earfull." Though, thinking about it, maybe she really should go talk to Angelina – Harry had a feeling the two girls would understand each other very well.

"See, that's another proof that football is superior to Quidditch," Dean commented sagely. "You can never have a football match that ends this soon."

"Too true," Sophie agreed, and their more wizarding-inclined friends only rolled their eyes.

"Why would anyone prefer a sport with only one ball, where no one flies, to _Quidditch_?" Seamus expressed all of their opinions succinctly.

Hagrid pushed his way to Harry through the crowd. "That was great, Harry, so great! I've never seen anyone fly that way before! Not even yer father could fly like that."

Harry turned to him curiously. "You remember my dad's flying? You never mentioned him..."

"Makes me sad to speak of him, 'specially with you," Hagrid muttered. "But he was great. Seems to me, though, yer even better."

Harry blushed a little. "Thanks," he said. "There's some discontent about how quickly I caught the Snitch."

Hagrid waved his hand. "Ah," he said, "you'll learn to time it better to your team's needs in time. But that talent you have, well, that can't be learned, you know?"

"Gee, thanks," Seamus muttered under his breath as Hagrid turned to leave.

"What?" Harry asked curiously

"Well, I'd really like to be a good flyer one day, you know...but I don't really have the talent. I thought with enough practice...well, seems Hagrid doesn't think so."

"I don't think Hagrid is exactly s Quidditch specialist," Ron observed. "I wouldn't take his words too much to heart.

"I'd love to have you on the team one day!" Harry added, trying to cheer his team up.

"Thanks," Seamus said, giving him a grateful smile.

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The Burkes and the Shacklebolts were dining at Travers Manor that evening, and Alduin was only half attending to the conversation, looking at Nathan speculatively and considering.

It's been over a month since he had heard the prophecy, and over a months since he started spending good part of many of his nights drinking in his study. Just a few days ago, upon seeing his guilty look at breakfast, Alexandra had sighed and said: "You're not a child, Alduin, so don't expect me to treat you as such" in such a resigned tone he thought he would go up in flames from all the same he felt. So that was when he told himself he had to stop, or at least start to get better. A month was enough, had to be enough, he told himself. He had given himself time to cope, and now was the time to act.

That was why he was looking at Nathan. Just as he hadn't talked to Abdullah after his parents died, he _had_ talked to Nathan, as soon as the first wave of grief passed. He needed to plan what to do, and Nathan with his wealth of relevant knowledge was the perfect person to talk to.

This was not a war, of course, but still, habit was pushing him in Nathan's direction. He needed a concrete plan of action if he wanted to break the vicious circle he managed to get himself into. He was about to have a son, and Harry needed him. This was no time to break down. Back in the war, he could drink and no one was the wiser. Well, at least… Eliza had known, of course, she had known perfectly well, but she didn't have to witness it. Alexandra was involved in a more direct way, and she didn't deserve that.

He had no right to be so whiny, anyway. It wasn't even his life that was ruined by the bloody prophecy. If he reacted like this to only hearing it, how would Harry react, the one it actually concerned? _Let's just hope he's made of tougher stuff than you are_ , Alduin thought self-deprecatingly.

But it was just hard. All he wanted, ever since he woke up from that coma, was to have a family again, and to keep it safe this time. It seemed that was simply not in the cards for him.

His thoughts were interrupted when Theodore quietly spoke to him, standing very close. "Whatever it is that is going on, you should get a grip."

Alduin blinked at him.

"I'd say it's none of my business," Theodore continued, "but Alexandra is my sister, and she is expecting your child. She has certain rights."

Alduin was still mostly confused. He was well aware that he didn't always look completely put together by breakfast, but he also knew for absolute certain that there was never a hair out of place on him by the time he was in public. His good friends would be able to tell, but Theodore wasn't one of those. "I'm not sure what you're referring to..." He began.

Theodore gave a small sigh. "Alexandra doesn't exactly complain, you see, but I can see she's worried. And Isobel said she and Abdullah both noticed something was not quite right. As I said, I don't mean to poke my nose into your personal business, but whatever it is that's bothering you, I very much doubt it's more important than the birth of your son, which, let me remind you, is just around the corner."

He was right, Alduin realized. Somehow, in all that had been going on, he had forgotten how near Alexandra's delivery date was. Whatever he wanted to do about Harry, whatever discussions he wanted to have with Nathan, it could all wait. There was just one thing he should be concentrating on right now, and damn him for forgetting that even for an instant, let alone for a month.

He nodded stiffly. "Thank you," he said.

Theodore gave him a careful look. Whatever he found, he seemed satisfied with it. "You're welcome," he said simply, and left. Alduin took a deep breath.

He should probably ask Alexandra's forgiveness. He could only hope she could actually grant it.

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Ron's birthday was coming up, and Harry and his friends were trying to figure out a way to celebrate it properly at Hogwarts without having any opportunity to go anywhere special, or get special food.

"Fred and George always seem to know where to get food," Sophie pointed out. "Maybe we should ask them."

"Good point," Harry admitted. "And maybe I could ask Alduin for a tip for a good place for celebration...even though I'm not sure he's the right person, but he might have heard something from my father or someone." Harry couldn't imagine his cousin doing anything but studying while at Hogwarts. Even his friendship with Mr. Abdullah was probably built on reading together or something.

"It's definitely the best option, at any rate," Neville commented, and Harry had to agree. He couldn't imagine trying to ask Neville's Gran, and Seamus' mother hadn't gone to Hogwarts.

Fred and George were helpful enough, and explained how to get to the Hogwarts kitchens. Harry was very grateful for his invisibility cloak now, and was planning the expedition with Sophie and Neville – he couldn't really fit more than three people under it, even that was difficult – when the letter from Alduin arrived.

It didn't really contain any particular tips. From the way he told it, it seemed like in Ravenclaw, birthday parties basically meant giving the person in question a lot of books and leaving them alone to read them. But it did tell him that if there was someone who knew everything about Hogwarts rooms it was the ghosts and portraits and "I suppose the house-elves, too". And since they were already headed to the kitchens anyway, they decided to try their luck.

On the way there, they ran into Ernie and Justin. "Harry!" Ernie cried, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Um...we're going to the kitchens. "

"Is that allowed?" Justin asked curiously.

Harry wasn't sure. He had hoped no one would ask.

"It's very improper at least," Ernie stated primly. "I'm surprised at you, Harry."

Harry wondered if the surprise would carry him far enough to write home about it. He prayed not. "We have a very important mission," he said, and Ernie shook his head at him and left him in the corridor feeling vaguely guilty.

It was worth it, though. The results exceeded any expectations they might have had. They were promised as much food as they could possibly want, and as for the location… "There is the come and go room, Miss and Sirs," one of the elves said.

"Come and go room?" Harry asked, confused.

"It is a room that can change into anything you want it to change into," another one explained. "Lotty will show you!"

She did, and they were amazed. This was going to be the best party ever.

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Ron was amazed as well, once he got to see it. "You really didn't have to," he said, staring at the piles of food before him. Dean had made a fantastic banner saying "happy birthday, Ron," they charmed it to change colours and hung it in the room. It looked very festive.

"But we wanted to," Sophie pointed out, and plopped down into one of the comfy armchairs the Room provided.

Harry grabbed a plate and piled some sweets on it. "Besides," he said, "we get to stuff ourselves too, so it's not like there's nothing in it for us."

"Word," Dead agreed, or at least Harry thought so – the boy's mouth was full, so it wasn't easy do decipher what he was saying.

Neville was the most moderate of them all. At their looks, he only shrugged uncomfortably. "My Gran always says I should be careful about what I eat," he explained.

"Neville, mate, it's my birthday," Ron argued. "I want you to enjoy yourself and forget what your Gran says for a while."

"Besides," Harry added, "I don't think Alduin would exactly agree with what I'm doing here either, but that's part of the charm of Hogwarts, isn't it? That our guardians don't find out what we get up to here."

The others were nodding enthusiastically, and so Neville relented and took some more cake.

"I can't believe Ron's the oldest here," Seamus commented, sprawling in an armchair. "He certainly doesn't seem it, does he?"

"Hey!" The birthday boy protested.

"He is right, you know," Sophie said, sticking out her tongue. "But then I'm not that much younger than you are, and girls are known to be mentally older than boys, so-"

"Really?" Seamus said, sniggering. "So why don't you spend more time with Parvati and Lavender?"

Sophie made a face. "Okay, some girls," she qualified her statement. They had had a long discussion whether to ask Parvati and Lavender to the party, but in the end, they decided not to. Lately both girls seemed to spend most of their time whispering to each other and giggling, and even when they talked to the rest of them, there were always many meaningful looks and winks. It was rather tiring, and Ron complained about it frequently. The others have decided that since it was his birthday, he had the right to have a break from something that irritated him.

"But maybe they really are older," Dean mused. "I mean, we're all supposed to turn into teenagers and start snogging left, right and centre soon, aren't we?" A bunch of disgusted faces was his answer, but he continued undeterred: "So maybe they really are ahead of us, because the seem much more willing to do that than I feel!"

Everyone laughed. "You may have a point here, mate," Ron admitted.

"Wait, have you actually seen…?" Neville wondered.

"Ugh, no! But they do talk about it a lot, don't they?"

"About snogging?" Sophie asked, looking faintly revolted.

"Not exactly, but about dating people, and who dates whom, and such."

"It's true," Seamus supported him. "I heard them discussing who some guy called Maurice was dating just yesterday, and I don't even know who that is..."

"Maurice is dating someone?" Harry and Neville asked at the same time, and laughed.

Seamus blinked at them. "Er, yeah, apparently? But who's…?"

"He's a Gryffindor fourth year," Harry replied. "Maurice Shacklebolt. We know him a little – but he didn't really talk to us much during the summer, being all grown up already, you know."

"You see?" Dean commented. "It's like I said. All grown up, means he's dating someone." He paused. "How do you go about staying eleven forever?"

There was another bout of laugher. "I dunno about that," Ron said then. "I mean, I have a bunch of older brothers, remember? And none of them seem to really...I mean, I'm pretty sure Fred and George aren't dating anyone, and Percy certainly isn't. And if Charlie did, I bet I'd have heard about it. I dunno about Bill, he's too much older and too much away for me to have any idea."

"My eldest brother totally has girlfriends," Sophie said. "A new one every month, or so it seems to me. One dumber than the other to be honest. It didn't exactly convince me that this whole dating this was something I should try."

"Let's make a pact not to do it," Dean proposed.

"Sounds like something we might regret later," Neville pointed out.

"Uh-huh, Neville, got your eye on someone?" Ron asked with a laugh.

Neville went crimson red. "No, that's not what I meant," he muttered.

"Leave him alone," Harry immediately jumped to his friend's defence. "Why are we talking about this, if we just agreed we were completely disinterested? Let's not forget Hufflepuff is playing Slytherin next week. That's what I want to discuss."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "What's to discuss about that? Slytherin will flatten them."

"Listen to the man for he is wise," Ron agreed. "The Puffs don't stand a chance, as sorry as I am to say it."

"I dunno," Harry mused, "I think Diggory is a decent Seeker."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "You beat him in like five minutes!"

"Yeah, but I got really lucky in that match. Did you see him against Ravenclaw? They stood no chance."

"The Claw team _is_ the worst," Seamus conceded, "but still, I don't think one good Seeker can balance out an entire team."

"That's what I said," Harry pointed out, "depends on how lucky you get. If he spots the Snitch early on, well, that's the Hufflepuff victory in the pocket. If not, then it goes to Slytherin, I agree. Their Chasers are second only to ours."

"What would you say is the Gryffindor's team's main weakness?" Dean asked him curiously.

"Huh. That's really hard to say. I mean, Fred and George are brilliant at their job, but Wood is pretty good too, and like I said, our Chasers are a well-oiled machine..." He frowned. "Can we have no weaknesses?"

Dean laughed. "Well, it'd explain the two victories, one in five minutes and another in spite of having a handicapped Seeker."

"Our weakness is being too gentle," Ron interrupted. "The Gryffindor team – except my brothers I guess – is too unwilling to play dirty, and sometimes you need to do that."

Everyone looked at him in amazement. "You're right," Harry realized, "that was spot on."

Ron's ears turned bright red.

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	46. A Man With Two Faces

Alduin was happy that Harry's letters home no longer contained mentions of suspicious teachers trying to kill him, but he would have appreciated if there had been more news about his education and less about his friends. There was only so much information about the youngest Weasley boy he could take. He just hoped he had taught Harry enough before he went to Hogwarts, and that the boy would not return to him with his manners completely ruined. He had great hopes about Neville Longbottom helping in this respect, but his shyness could be an obstacle in that.

He tried to control the impulse, but when there were only ten weeks to Harry's exams left and there was still no mention of studying in his letters, he wrote to remind his ward that doing well on those exams was very important. The reply he received was shocked, though Harry tried to mask it. There were still ages left till the exams, it said, and besides, no one was studying yet.

Alduin sighed. Gryffindors. His reply was a little terse, recommending Harry to check with Ravenclaw students, that he would be surprised. Perhaps he should have been kinder, but then, surely there was some excuse for him in the fact that he had recently found out that his ward was the Chosen One of the wizarding world, just when Alexandra's delivery date was swiftly approaching.

Also, he was possibly in withdrawal.

Well, not actually – he wasn't stupid, and there were magical ways to prevent physical addiction from forming. He knew all of them in and out. Mental addiction was another thing, though, and he found it far too easy to slip into the habits formed when he had been down before.

But he was managing. In the last two weeks, he hadn't had more than a glass or two before bed. Not enough to even feel, really. Certainly not enough to keep the nightmares at bay, but combining alcohol and Dreamless Sleep was a recipe for disaster and he was not that far gone yet.

So, in addition to all of the above, he was also operating on lack of sleep. It was probably a good thing Harry was away at school, really. No, scratch that, it was definitely a good thing.

At least everything seemed to be fine with his son, and his wife, and of course giving birth with the help of magic was not really very strenuous or risky, but he still felt restless and couldn't wait until Wynn was with them in the world. At least that would be one worry off his back.

His impatience, of course, had nothing on Alexandra. She also told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to talk to Dumbledore about Harry now, before Wynn was born, to have it out of the way so that he had time to concentrate on her and their son after he was actually among them. So, reluctantly, Alduin arranged for a meeting. He would have preferred to do it once he was in a better place mentally, but Alexandra and her brother were right. Wynn was a priority, and besides, there was no telling he actually would be in a better place once his son was born. Certainly the lack of sleep was unlikely to change.

So he had one drink to steady his nerves – just one! - and headed to Hogwarts.

The headmaster welcomed him with the usual false cheer, and offered him a sweet. "You know, people could say you're a little overprotective, Mr. Travers," he said. "No other parent has been in my office this often this year."

"No other parent has had such a good reason," Alduin retorted, and then plunged right in. "I went to the Department of Mysteries and listened to the Prophecy."

Every sign of cheer immediately disappeared from Dumbledore's face. "You had no right," he said.

"I had the only right," Alduin replied. "I'm Harry's guardian, and I needed to know. It would have been nice to hear about it from you, but I have learned long ago not to expect such things."

"What do you intend to do, then?" Dumbledore asked in a tight voice.

Alduin shrugged. Feigning nonchalance in face of despair was a skill he was a master of, after all. "Prepare Harry as well as possible," he said simply.

Dumbledore seemed surprised. "You intend to tell him? Now?"

"When he comes home for the summer, yes."

"Do you not think he's too young to hear?"

Alduin tried to curb his irritation and be as honest as possible. "I considered this," he admitted, "but unless you know something I don't, we don't truly have a timeframe. We don't know if Riddle is coming back in a year or in ten. If I knew we had time, then I'd certainly wait, at least until he was fourteen. But he might be dead by then if I don't do something."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Hm, yes, that is a valid point."

Alduin hesitated. "Why did you not tell me, Dumbledore?" He asked then. He was no longer as furious with the man as he had been. The Prophecy explained a lot. Still, he still thought Riddle could have been captured had Dumbledore told someone about his suspicions about Quirrell, and so he was suspicious of another blunder like that.

"It is very sensitive information."

"And what have I ever done to make you mistrust me?" Alduin knew trust didn't work like that – one had to earn it first, and he had never done anything for Dumbledore – but then, as he said, he was Harry's guardian. As much as Dumbledore disliked the fact. That rather changed things, in his opinion.

Dumbledore shook his head with a slightly condescending smile. "It is not like that. I have told no one, except for those who were present at the time."

Alduin stared. "No one? So if something happened to you…?"

"If something happened to me, without wishing to sound immodest, it would cause many more problems than just this."

Alduin barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, obviously, but shouldn't you try to limit the number of problems it'd cause, at least?"

"I have a will," the Headmaster said complacently. "My memories are part of it. It would have got to Harry anyway."

"You seem to count on people obeying your orders after your death rather a lot. Now, in peace, it would perhaps work. But then, you're much more likely to die during a war..." he paused. "But no, let's not do this. I'm not here to berate you. I need to know if you have any theories about this power Harry is supposed to have."

"Yes, of course. I believe it is love."

Alduin exhaled.

"Do not underestimate it," Dumbledore said sharply. "It is a most powerful-"

This time, Alduin did roll his eyes. "Yes, Dumbledore, _I know_. I'm a transcendental, remember? Even though love is not my specialization, I still think I know more about it than you do, academically speaking. That's why I believe you're wrong about the reasons Harry survived the killing curse, or at least not entirely right. So if that protection is going to be the power you're talking about..."

"Nor precisely." Dumbledore paused. "If you must know, this is the reason why I didn't wish for you to have he guardianship of Harry. His one quality that needs to be strengthened is love. Without meaning any offense, I know Ravenclaw households tend to be rather emotionally cold, and the nature of your marriage..."

Alduin wanted to say something truly rude in response, because surely it was none of Dumbledore's business, but he made himself consider it instead. "As for me and Alexandra," he said after a while, "as I'm sure you know, we'll have a child soon. Surely that should be…?"

"Yes, that is, indeed, excellent news. It cannot, of course, make up for the months Harry already spent exclusively in your care, but it will be very useful for the holidays."

Alduin wanted to protest, but Dumbledore raised his hand. "I have to admit," he said, "that you surprised me pleasantly with the way you cultivated Harry's Gryffindor connections. I do think it might add the necessary impetus, as long as Draco Malfoy's influence does not overpower the Gryffindor one."

"Harry sees Draco's mistakes clearly enough, so I don't think there's any danger of that. But there was something else I wanted to say. If encouraging Harry's love was the goal...how the hell could you leave him with the Dursleys for all those years?"

"Because, by the nature of his task, it is likely that it will require a degree of self-sacrifice of him," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Alduin suddenly felt rather acutely sick.

"So," he said slowly, "you let him be emotionally abused for years to ensure he doesn't like life and value himself too much, hoping that the adoration he was likely to receive once in the wizarding world would be enough to prevent him turning into a hateful kind of person?"

"It was a calculated risk," Dumbledore replied. "I relied on the subconscious memory of his parents' love to see him through."

Alduin almost laughed, though he felt no mirth at all. "And you call _me_ emotionally cold? What would your precious Gryffindors say if you presented them with this reasoning?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him. "I would, naturally, never confide my reasoning in one of my 'precious Gryffindors', as you say. I know them too well for that."

"Rather lucky for you then, is it not, that the surviving relative of Harry's isn't one of them?"

"Not really. You see, they'd be much more likely to listen to me." He frowned. "It's the Hufflepuffs I'd have had the most trouble with, but then I'm sure you can sympathize with that." He paused. "It hardly _pleases_ me that it's like that," he added. "I would have liked Harry to have a normal, happy childhood. But we have a war to win and a world to save, and I cannot afford to be sentimental."

Alduin left Hogwarts in a rather dazed state of mind. This conversation was going to take almost as long to adjust to as the prophecy itself. But at least he got the information he came for. This was going to be _hard_.

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Since Alduin looked just about ready to send him a Howler – something he had only heard about until now, but that sounded horrifying enough – Harry decided that it might, in actual fact, be better to start studying for the exams that still seemed so very far off. Neville joined him in his efforts, muttering that it was probably never too early for him and prompting another pep talk about him not being stupid or bad at things at all from Harry. But the rest of the House flat out told them they were insane and they were on their own.

It didn't make Harry any more confident in his efforts when Hermione Granger praised him effusively after seeing him in the library. "I'm glad someone at least has sense," she said. "Padma complained just the other night that her sister seems to think she'll just pass the exams based on her smile, and even some people in my own house don't appear to take it seriously enough. See you around, Harry, I have work to do!"

Curious about what the opinions were in the other Houses, Harry mirror-called Draco in the evening. "Yes, of course," Draco said. "We're all working on it already."

Harry groaned.

"What, you haven't started yet?" Draco seemed astonished.

"Starting just now, but I'd really hoped Alduin was exaggerating."

Draco smirked. "Well, depends on whether you want to just pass, or actually do well." He paused, then lowered his voice and added: "Though Greg and Vince have to work really hard even now to even make sure they'll pass...but they're determined not to give up!"

Good for them, Harry thought. If they can do it, so can I.

Still, it was exhausting, and when Harry felt his two-way mirror burn in his pocket the next day at breakfast, he made a face at the other Gryffindors. "Probably Alduin isn't happy with my assurances that yes, I'm studying now, and wants to see it with his own eyes," he commented as he took it out. However, what greeted him was Alduin's beaming face, a sight he had never seen before.

"Wynn was born last night," his cousin said without preamble. "He is fine and healthy, and so is Alexandra."

Harry's face immediately broke into a great smile. "Wow," he said, "that's great! I mean, congratulations! I can't wait to meet him!"

"Yes, you will soon enough. Listen, I have to go back to him and his mother now, but have a great day. And study!" He added quickly before breaking the connection.

"Trust him not to forget that even right after his son was born," Dean commented.

Harry nodded, amused in spite of himself, but said: "I really can't wait for Easter break now. I can pretend to have a little brother!"

"Having a little brother isn't all it's cracked out to be," Sophie muttered.

"Well, it's bound to be better than having a little sister," Ron observed, and Sophie smacked him.

"I think siblings are great," Dean admitted. "I think you will really enjoy playing with him, Harry, even though the age difference between you is huge, so maybe it won't be really like with mine. It sucks that you won't be able to help him at Hogwarts or anything, because he is too much younger."

"But he will get to play the wise and strong older brother," Seamus said. "That's cool, isn't it?"

"I'm not too sure Alduin would let me get away with it, but I can try," Harry laughed.

He considered the idea a bit more when he was lying in bed that evening. He had another second cousin now, just like Neville, only this one was much younger. He doubted he could ever be really friends with him, he would probably always be just a baby, but maybe he could help him and protect him when Wynn got older? Dean was right that they would never be together at Hogwarts, but he could still write to him and tell him all the things Alduin wouldn't know, like the wonderful secret of the come and go room.

He also wondered if Alduin and Alexandra would want to have more children. It hadn't occurred to him before, but it seemed that most wizards had two, just like with Muggles, so maybe another one? It also seemed to Harry that wizards usually had one son and one daughter, strange as it was, so perhaps he would have an almost-sister in a few years.

He thought about what Ron said, that little sisters were no fun. He had to admit that he was somewhat less excited about the idea that about Wynn, but then, Sophie was all right. If the girl was like Sophie, that would be fine.

He frowned, and thought of Alexandra, because any daughter she had would probably be a lot like her, wouldn't she? Alexandra was nice too, but he couldn't imagine having such a good time with a small version of her as he had with Sophie. She was just too...well, too much of a Ravenclaw.

Then he realized that all children of Alduin and Alexandra were likely be very Ravenclaw, and frowned. But perhaps he would get an opportunity to make more of a Gryffindor out of Wynn? If he grew up to be like Abdulaziz, Harry decided, that would be all right.

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AN: Yeah, Alduin and Dumbledore were quoting the Desolation of Smaug, why do you ask?


	47. The Forbidden Guest

Harry hopped off the train at King's Cross to find only Alduin waiting for him. "Alexandra stayed at home with Wynn," he explained. "Say goodbye to your friends, I promised I would be back soon."

Harry nodded and turned and waved to everyone present. Sophie was already running away to greet her brothers, and Dean and Seamus waved at him distractedly before they wandered away together. Neville greeted Alduin properly first, and Ron, seeing his example, followed a little belatedly.

"Good evening, boys," Alduin said. "How was your winter term?"

"It was nice, thank you," Neville replied. "Professor Yaxley was certainly much better than Professor Quirrell, even just as a teacher, I mean."

"Well, I should certainly hope so! From what I heard, Quirrell was a disaster." Alduin paused. "Say hello to your families from us, we really do have to be going."

"Of course, and give my regards to Mrs. Travers and your son," Neville said formally.

"I will. Come, Harry, take my arm."

Harry did, and after the usual short moment of feeling squeezed out of breath, he found himself in the receiving room of Travers Manor. "Can I go meet little Wynn straight away?" He asked immediately, no patience for the Christmas decoration around him. He was sure it was amazing, but come on, there was a brand new baby in the house!

"Of course," Alduin said with a smile. "Come with me."

They ascended the stairs to his – and now Alexandra's and Wynn's, Harry supposed – wing of the house, where Harry had never really been before, except that one time right after he arrived. Alduin knocked on a door and then entered a bedroom done in shades of blue, where Alexandra was lying in bed, with a baby sleeping in a crib next to her.

Harry bent over it, and his breath was taken away.

He hadn't seen many babies in his life, and those he had, it had only been from a distance. Wynn was just so very cute! He looked extremely fragile as he lay there, tiny and almost lost among the white of the blankets. His tiny little hands curling above the blanket with their itsy-bitsy fingers were simply inviting Harry to touch them, and once he did, very lightly and carefully, Wynn opened his large blue eyes and looked at him, and looking back, into that innocent and perfect face, Harry promised himself in that moment that he would always take care of Wynn and protect him and do anything he could for him, because, he decided, he simply adored the boy.

Then, Wynn started to cry.

"Oh," Harry said, "I think I woke him."

"It's all right," Alexandra replied, smiling. "It was about time he ate anyway."

"Come, Harry, let's get changed for dinner – it's about time _we_ ate, too!"

They left the room, and his cousin commented: "It was fine this time, but in future, take care not to do anything to wake him. It can be a chore getting him to sleep, and Alexandra is very grateful when he does and she can rest. So am I, for that matter."

"Does he sleep so little, then?" Harry wondered.

"Well, like all babies, he needs to eat during the night. He wakes about every two to three hours and Alexandra has to get up and feed him, so she doesn't get so much sleep and is tired during the day."

"Uh, every three hours? That's pretty terrible," Harry said sympathetically.

"Actually, as far as babies go, that is quite a good record. And don't worry, it is only like this the first several months, then babies learn to sleep longer." Alduin paused at the door to his bedroom. "See you at dinner, then. I will explain more about the proper way to act around Wynn."

Harry left to change, musing about how he hadn't known babies were so complicated.

Still, he hadn't known they could be so amazing either. He thought it was mostly girls who went crazy when they saw a baby, because they like to play with them like with dolls, but this was something else. Wynn didn't look like a doll at all, he was a living and breathing tiny human, and Harry felt like he was _his_ in a way no one else was – he would know Harry from the moment he was born, and he would live in the same house, and Harry would hopefully be free to tell him stories and play with him when eh got older. There was something amazing about that that he couldn't quite name. No, he was not going to let anyone hurt Wynn, ever.

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Alduin was looking through the reports from the Muggle Research Institute, feeling rather morose. Most people, he supposed, would be happy if an institute they funded started to produce results. He, however, was decidedly not.

With Wizengamot and Harry and Wynn and running his own house, he had enough work for four people, and now he was being handed results of a study on Muggle rights in the wizarding world and a proposal for a new law. Apparently, he was expected to annotate it and then help push it through Wizengamot.

The worst part was that it was a good law, too, one that would be beneficial to all if it passed. But it would still be a pain getting it through, a fierce and exhausting battle with Lucius and his allies, and Alduin absolutely did not have time for that. H desperately needed someone else to do at least some of his work, but there was no one competent available.

And now that Harry was at home for the break, he had even less time than usual, since he was overseeing Harry's exam revision every day for a few hours. Sometimes he was tempted to give that up, but he promised himself he would not. Harry's education was important, and he would never give the boy an occasion to feel that he came second after Wynn. It was only too frequent in siblings, Harry with his trust and confidence issues was probably in even more danger than some others, and Alduin wanted nothing else than good camaraderie to exist between his children and his ward.

For Harry, this determination to have classes was irritating, but also provided an opportunity to talk to his cousin alone, something he needed at the moment.

"Alduin..." he said, shuffling his feet a little.

"Yes, Harry? What do you want?"

Harry straightened his back. "Well," he said, "it will be Sophie's birthday on Friday, and I was wondering if maybe I couldn't ask her for a visit? I mean, I know you normally don't really invite Muggle-Borns, but she's my friend and it is her birthday and so I thought..."

Alduin frowned, and Harry wilted. "It was just an idea..." He muttered. He really didn't want to impose on his cousin.

"Harry," Alduin said, "when have I ever given you the idea that it was a problem to ask your Muggle-Born friends to the house?"

"Well," Harry pointed out, a little defensively, "there has never been a Muggle-Born person here, as far as I know."

"You are wrong here, in fact – some members of both my and Alexandra's group of scholarly friends are Muggle-Born – but I realize you don't know that. But what you should have realized is that even if there were no Muggle-Born at the parties and dinners we threw, it was because we simply moved in social circles where they were rarely to be found, not because of any blood prejudice on our part." He paused, seeming to think about how to phrase things. "Yes," he said then, "we would object to a visit from an adult wizard who did not know our social customs – as you know, this is why I was so unhappy about asking the Weasleys, initially – but one can hardly ask that of children, and how are they to ever learn if they are never shown? You are right that I would not ask Sophia to a big party we were throwing, precisely because she likely doesn't know how to act yet – but I would be delighted to have her as part of your group of friends." He paused. "But not right now, Harry. Alexandra is still in her confinement after the childbirth, and we are not receiving visitors at the moment, except for close family and friends."

Harry hung his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have realized. It's just that Sophie seemed so sad after the last break that she didn't get to meet with us..."

Alduin frowned. "Perhaps something could be arranged. Not here, but what would you say to a meeting in Diagon Alley? A fun afternoon in shops and ice-cream parlours?"

Harry immediately brightened. "That would be great! Should I write to her? Can I invite more people?"

"Certainly, as long as it won't be more than three or four." Harry nodded and turned to leave, already formulating the letter in his head, when Alduin's voice stopped him: "And Harry, this Friday is Good Friday. We do not observe it, as you know, but Sophia's family might be religious, and some of your other friends certainly are. Perhaps you'd better make the celebration a different day – Thursday or Wednesday. Ask what would suit her better."

"All right, I will, thanks!"

Harry ran off to compose his missive, internally considering that it was great that his cousin thought of all these things. He would have never realized, and then maybe it would have been awkward or Sophie would have had to decline or something. He generally didn't have much sympathy for the Ravenclaw approach to things, but sometimes considering matters in detail was preferable, he had to admit.

Alduin's admission that there were Muggle-Borns in the study groups also made him think of Hermione Granger again. Yes, it really seemed that even the normally pureblood-oriented Claws had no problems making exceptions when the witch or wizard in question were clever enough…

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Before the birthday party, there were other social occasions to go to, and Harry found himself once more in Malfoy Manor. He couldn't quite keep quiet about the planned outing, and Draco couldn't quite keep his sneer in control. "I don't know why you talk to her," he said.

"Because she is fun," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Theo sniggered. "That's a very Gryffindor response," he said.

Harry only shrugged in answer to that. "Well I am a Gryffindor," he said. "And I don't get your problem, Draco. I mean, I can sort of see how the Muggle-Born can be a danger to wizarding traditions if their customs spread, but it's not like I'm planning to marry her." Then he remembered something Alduin had said. "Besides," he added, "how is she supposed to learn our traditions if no one talks to her? If the pureblood don't talk to the Muggle-Born, the Muggle-Born will of course never learn and will keep following the Muggle customs instead."

Draco frowned at this. "They come to our world," he said, "they should adapt."

"But, I mean, do they get some classes for that? Explaining them what the wizards do differently?" He hesitated, knowing he was not supposed to mention that, but then said: "It took me a while after I moved in with my cousin to learn everything, and that was with him explaining stuff to me all the time and in great detail. It must be sort of hard for them, you know."

Draco kept frowning. "You're right that there should be a class for this. I don't know why there isn't."

"Probably Dumbledore," Theo commented sagely. "He seems to love Muggles and their customs."

Draco nodded, and Harry did as well. "Alduin told me some strange things," he said, "about how Dumbledore runs the school, and my own experience with him has been a little strange too. Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if it was his fault." He thought of Hermione Granger again, and how she probably didn't have this problem because Horatio took her under his wing. And how he and Neville and Ron, and even Seamus, were helping Sophie and Dean. But what if someone didn't become friendly with any purebloods? "Maybe houses should have some kind of system in place where they make sure every Muggle-Born has someone to explain things to them," he said aloud.

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't really concern Slytherin, but yeah, I guess it would be useful. You can try proposing that if you ever become a prefect."

Harry nodded, considering. Even if he didn't, it would probably be Neville who got the position in that case, and Harry was sure he could convince his friend it was a good idea.

In fact, he took the opportunity to bring it up at Sophie's birthday celebration. "So does that mean the Muggle-Born would have to have more classes than you?" She said immediately. "That doesn't seem fair to me."

"Hm, you're right," Harry admitted. "Maybe if it was offered instead of Muggle Studies? But that's only in third year..."

"That might be enough," Neville said, swallowing a bite of his chocolate cake. "I mean, we're only really allowed to attend any interesting events once we're fourteen, and by that time, the Muggle-Born would already have gone through the basics – those that were interested, anyway – and so I think it would work out fine."

"What kinds of events are we allowed to attend once we're fourteen?" Dean asked curiously.

"Well, balls and theatre and dinner parties..."

"Uh," Dean made a disgusted face. "Doesn't seem like reason enough to bother with a class."

"Dinner parties can be fun," Harry argued. "Most of those I've been to were."

"Wait," Sophia said, "but if you're only allowed in them once you're fourteen, how do you know?"

"It's super-complicated. Children can go to small ones, like when it's just family, but not when it's something big."

"And how can you tell who's family? Didn't you tell us basically everyone was related in the wizarding world?" Dean, this time.

Harry gave Neville a helpless look, and the boy answered: "Um, it counts when it's in direct line, plus siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins...I think. Maybe second cousins at most? And people you're really super good friends with."

Sophia laughed at them. "I think," she said, "that you'd need that class yourselves!"

They finished their cake and wandered out into Diagon Alley. They checked Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Magical Menagerie, and the Owl Emporium, and because it was Sophia's birthday, Harry didn't even insist on visiting the bookshop, though he could not help casting longing glances at it as they passed. He would have to ask Alduin to stop by before he returned to Hogwarts. They ended up back at Florean Fortescue's, having ice-cream in spite of the weather not really being that warm. It was a lovely day, and Harry reminded himself to thank Alduin for the idea. Maybe, he thought, this would become a tradition!


	48. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

This time there were no exciting stories from abroad to be heard on the train ride to Hogwarts, so Harry used it to freely talk to his friends from other houses before they were mostly separated by the Hogwarts system once again. He even went to hang out in the Hufflepuff compartment for a moment, or rather, in its door, since the compartment itself was completely crowded. But he didn't know the Puffs very well, so after asking them about their break, he nodded to them and went next door.

He was rather torn, because Pansy was sitting there – the same Pansy who still hadn't apologized to him for indirectly insulting his mother.

"Hey, Harry," Daphne said when she saw him there. "Come sit with us, Pansy can go take a walk for a moment."

"I'll do no such thing," Pansy replied, seeming to want to add something, but Draco interrupted her.

"Yes you will," he said. "Unless you have something particular to say to Harry?"

Pansy gave him a hateful look, and pushed out of the compartment.

"What have you done to her?" Harry wondered.

"Us? Nothing. I just happen to know that her grandparents heard about what she said in some way-" Daphne snorted at this, and Theo rolled his eyes, giving Harry a very good idea what this _some way_ was. Draco continued: "-and told her very empathetically that she was to apologize. Well, I'm not sure Pansy has ever apologized to anyone in her life, so...you can imagine how she took it. She's currently still sulking, but I think she'll get over it."

"Doubtful," Daphne observed. Harry had to agree, given that it was now over half a year.

"I'm not too sure about it either," Milicent agreed. "From what she told me, Pansy really doesn't feel like she did anything particularly wrong, so it makes her angry she's being forced to apologize."

"She doesn't feel like she did anything wrong?" Harry stared. "I mean, she...well, she implied my mother was somehow less that had she been a pureblood, how can she expect I'll just keep being friends with her unless she apologizes?"

Draco shifted in his seat, but didn't say anything. It was Theo who spoke. "I know you probably don't realize this," he said, "but...much worse things are often said aloud, in...some families. Only, of course, not in the presence of the person you're offending, particularly not when the person in question is a head of an Ancient house and a celebrity. I don't think Pansy quite realizes the difference."

"She realizes it," Milicent informed them. "She just hates it."

"How Gryffindor of her," Draco noted.

"Perhaps Hufflepuff is more likely?" Daphne asked, and the Slytherins laughed.

"I don't like the difference either," Harry said, a little sharply. "She shouldn't speak like that to anyone."

"Sure," Daphne agreed. "But she does, and she did so to you. Are you going to not demand an apology just because had you been someone else, her family wouldn't have pressured her into it?"

Harry didn't know. He wasn't sure what was the right thing to do, and determined to ask Neville about his opinion at the nearest opportunity. Asking Ron, he knew, would be useless. He'd just get a rant against Slytherins.

He mused about this on the carriage ride back to the castle, and during dinner as well, until Dumbledore's announcement distracted him.

„Did they decide that having a new teacher every year was getting too stable, and so they switched to a new one every term?" Fred asked when he heard that Mr. Titus Davies would now be teaching them Defence.

"You know they're just substitutes," Harry replied. "Mrs. Leartes was just finding it too time-consuming, from what my cousin told me."

"Mrs. Leartes?" Fred asked with exaggerated surprise over the title.

Harry blushed a little. "Um, Professor Yaxley. Horatio's grandmother."

"So, wait, Horatio's grandma quit, and now we get Roger's granddad instead?" George interjected. What is this, some kind of family business? Did they arrange it between themselves?"

Harry frowned. "Roger and Horatio, you mean? I don't think so. I mean, it was my cousins who got Mrs. Leartes to teach, and she convinced Mr. Titus, because she was getting tired."

Fred stared at him. "Does your cousin usually arrange Hogwarts teacher appointments?"

"Nah, only when Dumbledore is incapable to," Harry retorted, then clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Ah, what do I hear?" George needled.

"Above-standard information about the Headmaster?" Fred went on. "Perhaps even spying, yes?"

"You got it wrong," Harry muttered. "We weren't spying, we were just told this."

"So it's favouritism, is it?" George continued to tease, with a wicked grin on his face.

That amused Harry. "Ha! Not likely. As far as I know, Dumbledore is really angry with my cousin right now, and so probably with me, too, by extension." In fact, he supposed that if there was a teacher that really didn't like him, apart from Snape of course, it was probably Dumbledore.

"But why, in that case, would he accept the person your cousin picked to teach Defence?" Fred asked shrewdly.

Harry mentally groaned. "Uh...it's complicated," he said. "My cousin...kinda had a hand in Quirell quitting, so..."

"Oh la la!" Fred said with sheer malicious joy. "As far as we know, Quirrell quit in such a manner that he ended up in prison waiting for trial. Was that your cousin's job as well?"

Harry groaned aloud this time and hid his face in his hands. He wished he hadn't said anything.

"No no no," George insisted, "you aren't getting out of this so easily. I heard Dad saying Quirrell is supposed to go on trial next week, and we want juicy details!"

"I'm sure Harry doesn't know anything," Percy said, appearing from Merlin knew where, probably with a radar for any trouble his brothers were brewing. "The papers are very tight lipped about the case, so it is clearly shrouded in secrecy."

 _Yeah, it would be,_ Harry thought. "What are they writing?" He asked curiously. "And why does it go to trial this late? He was arrested back at the beginning of December..."

Percy gave him a superior look. "This is actually very quick for how trials normally proceed," he said. "They must have given it some priority. But the only thing to be found in the papers is that he was planning an attack on Hogwarts and was caught red-handed."

"You could say that, yes," Harry muttered before he could stop himself.

That, of course, was irresistible to the twins who immediately started to pester him. Percy was clearly too curious himself to stop them. Harry exchanged a desperate look with Neville and Ron, but his friends clearly had no idea how to help him, so in the end, Harry said resignedly: "Quirrell was the one who let the troll inside the school, and also the one who tried to jinx my broom during the first Quidditch match."

There was an explosion of outrage at this, especially at the second bit of information. Harry just hoped he hadn't ruined anything by what he said. The Weasleys all already knew about these two occurrences, so he figured giving them some answers should just help to calm their curiosity. Still, he wished he could have consulted it with Alduin beforehand.

He also wondered a little about there being no mention of Riddle when the papers talked about Quirrell. Did the Wizengamot know, he wondered? And if not, how do they intend to try him if they don't take into account the most crucial fact?

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Alduin was completely exhausted.

The Easter holidays had taken all of his energy. Pretending for two weeks that everything was fine when every time he looked at his ward, he could hear the words of the prophecy in his head...it took its toll. He did his best to encourage Harry's interaction with Wynn and his friends as much as he could, but it was less than he would have managed normally.

Taking care of Wynn was exhausting as well. He loved his son more than anything or anyone, and saw him as a blessing from the gods, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to the day Wynn would be at least a little more self-sufficient.

His exhaustion had nothing on Alexandra's, of course, but she at least could use her confinement as an excuse and hide in her room for most of the Easter break. It was him who was expected to go around visiting people, talking about his son, and continuing his Wizengamot influence battles as well.

The Insitute produced very detailed and thoughtful changes to the first objections to their proposed law, too, to his rather intense astonishment. Alduin was naturally expected to lobby for these updates again, in his copious free time.

The idea that war would come now terrified him.

It was never a pleasant prospect, of course, but now, in this state, he didn't think he could keep up at all, and so he prayed to be granted at least a little reprieve, a little more time.

The things that needed to be done hung like a Damoclus' sword above him, and likely the most important part was getting the relevant transcendentals together to brainstorm about the possibilities of Harry's scar.

Muhammad was a clear choice for that, and Mrs. Gerard Ollivander could probably be trusted as well. He had less faith in Valerius Prince – anyone who disinherited their daughter for marrying a Muggle could not be trusted not to give information to Riddle. Sarabeth Boot was likely safe enough, too, but that might very well be all – Alduin much preferred keeping the Ministry people out of it, and while he trusted Croaker, generally speaking, he didn't want to put him in the tough spot of having to decide whether his job did or did not require him to report this.

So he dragged himself into his study to make the relevant Floo calls. His eye landed on a calender when he was there, and he groaned. It was Beltine in a couple of days, but with the way he felt now, he'd feel accomplished if he managed to light a fire in the garden. Hosting a party was fortunately out of the question with Alexandra in confinement, but still, he would have wanted to make a bit of a private celebration...He'd just have to make up for it at Midsummer – hopefully, he'd be more on top of things by then.

If he wasn't, he might just as well consider giving up.

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"Why is the last Quidditch match so late?" Harry asked one Saturday morning at breakfast, before heading to practice.

"No clue," Ron replied. "Fred and George said it's really weird, too, normally it's played around this time of the year."

"Who does the scheduling, anyway? Madam Hooch?"

Ron shrugged. "I reckon Dumbledore does, or at least approves it."

"In that case, it's probably some weird Dumbledorish reason," Harry muttered.

Ron only nodded. His opinion of the Headmaster went down considerably ever since those events with Quirrell. "Are you afraid you'll forget how to play with the long break?" He asked then.

"Ha! Hardly, with the way Wood's driving us."

"Ah, so that's it!" Ron pointed a mock-accusing finger at him. "You wish it was sooner, so that you could get a break from the rigorous training."

"You nailed it. Also, I think it'd be better to have it over and done with to be able to concentrate on the exams properly, not having both basically at the same time."

"Your cousin's rubbing off on you," Ron muttered disgustedly.

"I'm actually thinking more about Wood," Harry replied. "He has OWLs this year, and he's already completely stressed about prepping us for the last match when his exams basically start the week after. I'm really sorry for him."

Ron winced in sympathy. "Yeah, I can't even imagine. I mean, look at how completely stressed Percy is, and he doesn't really have much else to do."

It was true – Percy was snapping at people and neglecting his prefect duties lately, his head buried in books all the time.

"OWLs must be dreadful," Harry said. He was stressed enough by his ordinary exams.

"I remember Charlie saying that they feel dreadful, but then you go through NEWTs and realize that it was actually a piece of cake."

"That hasn't exactly cheered me up, Ron."

Harry could witness the pre-exam frenzy himself when he came to the library in the afternoon to do some revision and found it full of people. Hermione Granger was standing by the door, looking immensely frustrated. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Every table is full," she replied, "and I need to study!"

"Can't you study in your common room?" He asked.

"Yes, that's what I normally do, but they have a big OWL review together today, and they've taken over the common room. I mean, I could go to our dormitory, of course, but it's really hard to work without a table!"

Harry considered the problem. "I'll show you the Come and Go Room," he said then. "Come with me."

Hermione followed him, asking curiously: "What is it? What does it do? Is that another room for studying?"

"You'll see," Harry replied mysteriously. "How are you, Hermione?" He asked then, to distract her, and listened to her talking about exams the rest of the way.

Once they arrived to the corridor they needed, Harry passed the wall several times, and when the door finally appeared, he pushed it open – to find it full of older Ravenclaws, Horatio and Roger among them.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry, I was just looking for a place to study..."

Hermione peeked inside from behind him, and smiled. "Oh, hello, Horatio!" She said.

"Oh, bugger," Roger muttered.

"Shut up, Roger," Horatio said, rolling his eyes, and nodded his greeting towards Hermione. "Was it you who wanted to study?" He asked.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "The library is full."

"Come in, then. Where's Su, and the other girls?"

"They decided to hang around the OWL revision to see what it was like, but I feel like I really need to go over my Transfiguration notes today."

"I'm pretty sure you actually don't," Horatio replied with a smile, "but never mind that, sit with us and do." He turned to Harry. "You actually planning to study, or were you just accompanying Hermione?"

Harry grinned. "Mostly that, yeah. I planned to do revision, but I can actually go to our common room, and I think I'll do just that."

"I can't imagine Gryffindor common room being an exactly pleasant study environment," Roger observed.

Harry had to concede that was true. "It's better this close to the exams," he said then, apologetically, and shut the door on Horatio's grinning face.

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AN: A gift chapter for this festive season, an out of schedule update! Merry Christmas/Hanukkah Sameach/a very belated Mawlid Mubarak/happy holiday of any other sort you might be celebrating, and a happy new year 2017. Let it be a better one!


	49. Horcruxes

A date that suited Muhammad, Sarabeth and Mrs. Gerard Ollivander was arranged, and they all came over one evening, unclear on what exactly it was Alduin needed from them, only knowing it was serious. The dinner was spent in pleasant conversation, chiefly taking apart the recently published response to that legendary Transfiro book. The problem in his equations was finally discovered. As it turned out, his theories about time-travel changing the past had one little drawback: it only worked when no one was aware that it happened, rendering it essentially useless.

"Can you believe he didn't catch that?" Sarabeth asked.

"Well, the equations did check out," Mrs. Gerard pointed out.

"True enough," Muhammad agreed, "but you'd think that common sense would drive him to check every possible loophole. It was just so unlikely!"

"I suppose that when you make what seems like a ground-breaking discovery, you aren't took keen on second-guessing yourself," Alexandra opined.

Immediately after dinner, she retreated back to her room and the rest of the company relocated to the drawing room, where they were offered their drinks of choice and Alduin finally spoke. "First, I need the word of all of you that you will treat this matter as fully confidential," he said. "It is extremely sensitive information."

They all assented. Alduin truly wished he could ask an Unbreakeable Vow from them, but that, of course, would have been an unforgivable affront. Instead, he just look at each of the in turn to indicate his seriousness before he spoke again. "As you know," he said, "I'm the guardian of Harry Potter, my first cousin once removed. You also know that Harry has been left with a scar after his unique survival of the Killing Curse. I have discovered, at the beginning of this school year, that the scar in question was more than simply dead tissue. Harry told me that it reacted to the presence of Quirinius Quirrell, his Defence teacher at the time."

By the looks on their faces, he realized they were working out the implications, but they didn't interrupt him and he continued: "I later discovered that Quirrell had been possessed by Riddle at the time." There was a gasp from Sarabeth. "So it is not difficult to deduce that the reaction was, in fact, to the one who has caused this scar to appear in the first place. I have done some research on the topic, and it seems to me that it can either be some sort of warning spell put there by whatever Lily Potter did to save her son...or some sort of unintentional partial possession by Riddle. But if so, it would seem like a possession the possessing was unaware of, and nothing I've read indicated such a thing existed. However, I'm not an expert in the field of mind and soul, so I asked you here to consult the matter with you."

There was a short silence after he finished, looks of varying degree of horror on the guests' faces. Mrs. Gerard was the first to speak. "I know this is very far from your specialization," she said, "but have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

"Yes, of course," Alduin replied. "They are one of the recognized ways to make killing one more difficult, aren't they?"

"Yes, the one that works best second only to the Philosopher's Stone."

Alduin frowned. "How are they relevant?"

"Well...it is known that Riddle attempted to cheat death, is it not? This is one of the ways he could have used, and given its reliability, the most likely one, since he'd have hardly balked at the murder required for it, nor, I believe, would he be able to appreciate the disadvantages. At any rate, I believe it could…" She paused. "It is a pity Valerius isn't here, mind and soul is his specialization, though I understand why you refrained from asking him. But from what I understand, this could account for the unconscious possession business."

Alduin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Simply that from what I know, the two fragments of the soul aren't aware of each other, though they might react in some way, and so if Mr. Potter was possessed by only a part of Riddle, the Dark Lord wouldn't be aware of it."

"Are you trying to tell us that Harry Potter is Riddle's Horcrux?" Sarabeth asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Only that he might be," Mrs. Gerard corrected pedantically.

"So the idea is," Muhammad said slowly, "that Riddle heard the prophecy – supposing there is one – and decided it was the perfect opportunity, turning the chosen one into his vessel of immortality?"

"No, no, no," Mrs. Gerard said immediately. "It wouldn't have been intentional. The whole point of Horcruxes is that you hide part of your soul in something durable, not in the body of a fragile baby."

"But surely...I mean, I don't know much about this, but I'm pretty certain Horcruxes are supposed to be created by a rather complicated ritual. You don't just make one accidentally," Muhammad objected.

"He must have been wanting to make use of the Chosen One in an ironic fashion, like you said," Mrs. Gerard said in answer, "to use his murder to create a Horcrux. And something went wrong. I don't know enough about it to know what, but it'd tie up with whatever Lily Potter did, certainly."

"Let's not forget that part," Muhammad added. "Like Alduin said, there's another option, apart from this weird possession. It might be a warning spell set up by Lily Potter. We don't actually _know_ the scar is a result of the Killing Curse. Everyone just supposes so."

"Finding out, however, would require extensive experiments on Harry." Alduin pointed out, "direct magical ones on his scar, and exhausting Legilimency of his suppressed memories to see if there was anything left about that night, anything about what his mother did. I'm unwilling to let him undergo either."

"So you prefer not knowing?" Mrs. Gerard asked sharply.

"As long as it's not immediately relevant, yes. Especially considering the implications of the Horcrux option." There was a grim silence, then Alduin said with a heavy sigh: "That reminds me...Muhammad said, supposing there was a prophecy. Well, there is. I've heard it."

Sarabeth gave him a sharp look.

"Yes," he said, "I had rather hoped you could help me with that." And he repeated the wording.

Sarabeth frowned. "That is pretty ambiguous even as far as prophecies go," she said. "Of course, if there is a Horcrux in Harry, we know what 'mark him as his equal' means, so that's another point for that theory, I'm afraid. But what exactly can 'neither can live while the other survives' mean...I'll have to do some research on that. I can't tell you off the bat. It might, very well, be somehow connected to the Horcrux as well..."

"That sounds more like the direct opposite, though," Muhammad pointed out. "I mean, if Harry is Riddle's Horcrux, it's more like Riddle can't live unless Harry survives, isn't it?"

Sarabeth gave him an arch look. "Which one of us," she asked, "is an expert on prophecies?"

He raised his hands in surrender. "You are, of course. Forget I said anything."

"I understand why it sounds strange to you," she conceded, "but you have to concentrate more on the interconnection of their lives and deaths that is implied by the wording. That sounds like it could very well express something like a Horcrux. But like I said, I'll need to do some more research."

Alduin nodded. "I'd be very grateful to you...but please, be extremely careful with that research. If this got out..."

She gave him an irritated look. "Of course. I'm not an idiot."

"Very well. Alexandra looked into some historical prophecies to try and compare the wording, maybe you could get together on this?"

"I'll contact her as soon as her confinement is over."

Alduin gave her a grateful smile. "I also have a question for you, Muhammad," he said then, turning to his best friend's father. "I spoke to Dumbledore about the prophecy, and he insists that 'the power Dark Lord knows not' is love. Any insights?"

Muhammad considered. "Yes, it could be. It very well could be. Certainly if something has enough of a destructive potential to bring Riddle down, love would be it."

"Fine, but in that case – how do I prepare Harry? I want to train him to fight, in any case, but apart from that? Dumbledore seems to believe I should encourage his friendships and open expressions of affection and things like that."

"That sounds, if you forgive me, very Dumbledorish." Muhammad frowned. "It's not wrong, per se, but rather amateurish. I'd like to look into it as well, however, before giving you anything definite. If that's okay?"

"Of course. I can't do anything until Harry comes home form the holiday, in any case."

"Very well, I'll do my best to have something for you by then."

The evening was concluded shortly afterwards, and Alduin wandered through the dark manor to his study for a large glass of whisky. Why, he asked the universe, can nothing ever be easy? Why? Just send some help, he muttered, because I can't do this. I'm too tired.

At first, he dismissed the Horcrux option. Yes, now that Mrs. Gerard had suggested it, he could see how it was an obvious way for Riddle to gain immortality. It was very likely there was, indeed, a piece of his soul hidden somewhere. But in Harry? She herself had said it was stupid to make a human into a Horcrux, and an accident just sounded unlikely.

But the more he thought about it, the less certain he was. Not one of his friends had ever heard of any other way to create a possession where the possessing was unaware of it. It seemed that if that part of his theory was right, it had to be a Horcrux. He could, of course, concentrate on the other option, like Muhammad had suggested, but…it always seemed like the less likely one, if he was being honest.

He was a little stumped here by not knowing the exact circumstances of Lily's death, of course, but still. If it was a warning mechanism, it was an extremely unreliable one. It had only hurt Harry strongly once. After that, from what the boy said, it was only small twinges, such he wouldn't have probably even noticed if he hadn't been looking for them. It hadn't seemed to protect Harry in any way when they were in the Mirror chamber. It didn't even hurt there, apparently. Of course, if this was a random byproduct of a different spell, it could have this sort of blotchy result, but Alduin wasn't aware of any similar cases, and none of his friends looked like it was familiar to them either. And they were all very widely read friends.

The more Alduin thought about it, nursing his glass, the more it fit. There was the way it agreed with the prophecy, like Sarabeth had said, and it explained the reactivity of Harry's scar very well of course, but there was another thing, too, as he just realized. There was Harry's parseltongue ability. It had worried him for a long time and he had been unable to find an explanation. Now he realized with horror that this was the perfect one.

He didn't know what more evidence he could ask for, except for direct experiments.

In all likelihood, Harry had Riddle's Horcrux inside of him.

Alduin gave up on his glass, and drank directly from the bottle instead.

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Dean's birthday was coming up, and Harry turned to Seamus for advice on what they should do for the boy. "I think he'd really like an opportunity to fly," Seamus replied. "I mean, he really enjoyed the classes while they lasted, and likes watching Quidditch, but he doesn't really get to play and..."

Harry nodded. "A brilliant idea," he said. "I can lend him my Nimbus for the day, and we can organize a three on three match. Are you in?" He asked the others.

Seamus, Ron and Sophie nodded, but Neville shook his head awkwardly. "I really don't like flying that much, sorry, Harry," he said. "I'd spoil your fun. If you ask Parvati and Lavender, I'll just sit with them and watch you and cheer."

Harry frowned. "Okay, fine, but that'd mean there'd be five of us, and that's a really awkward number..."

Ron considered this. "We could ask Fred and George," he said, "but that wouldn't really help, we'd still not be even."

"Yeah, but they're really good friends with Angelina, aren't they? Could they ask her to join us?"

"I guess..."

"Fine, so that's settled. I'll stop by in the kitchens for some food, and we'll have a great afternoon."

The weather apparently agreed with their plan, because it was relatively warm and sunny when it was put into practice. The first years' classes ended early on that day, so they sat on the pitch, enjoying the food, and Dean was flying around on Harry's Nimbus as they waited for the older students to join them.

Fred and George arrived with both Angelina and Alice, which made Harry groan. "Now we have odd numbers again," he complained.

"We can take turns," Angelina replied. "I wasn't gonna go flying without Alice, she'd be too jealous."

"Too right," Alice agreed. "And I'll rememberer that you singled her out, too," she added, but she was laughing as she said so, so Harry gathered she wasn't really offended. He'd only done it because he thought Fred and George were better friends with her!

They played a few games, Fred and George and Angelina and Alice taking turns, and as the sun began to set, they all landed and sat down again to chat, Dean asking Fred and George eagerly about their last year on the team and the matches they played.

Sophie was chatting with Angelina and Alice, and Harry could see that he'd been right, they understood each other very well. "I'd tell you to try out for the team next year," Angelina was saying, "but, the thing is, you'd have to take one of our places, so..."

Sophie laughed. "I think I like Keeping better, anyway."

"That gives you a better chance," Alice mused, "Oliver will graduate sooner than we will."

"But you might have to compete for that position with Ron," Angelina added. "He seemed to enjoy it as well."

"I know," Sophie nodded. "We've talked about it already. But it's still years away, so one of us might decide they hate Quidditch or something, by then."

Angelina looked horrified. "You wouldn't!"

Sophie giggled. "I was actually thinking about Ron," she said. "I mean, his brother gave it up to concentrate on dragons, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Angelina said with a frown.

"Angelina still blames him," Alice said with a smile. "I actually feel sorry for the poor guy. The last two years, each time after Gryffindor lost, everyone was blaming him and lots of people even stopped talking to him."

"What? That's terrible!" Harry said, affronted.

"Yeah. He seemed pretty cool about it, and of course his really good friends were never part of it, but still. It was stupid."

"I just think he could have managed to combine his work preparation with playing," Angelina muttered.

"Well, it was his decision," her friend pointed out.

"Hey!" Fred exclaimed, their end of the conversation running dry and him hearing the end of the one the girls led. "No badmouthing our brother...without us!"

"I kinda blamed him as well," George added, "but then I saw the dragon reserve during Christmas break and...it's super cool. I can actually imagine giving up Quidditch for that."

"Traitor," Angelina said.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Fred pointed out. "Harry flies at least as well as he did, so we've got the victory in the pocket once more."

Harry blushed, and George clapped him on the back. "Embrace it, mate," he said.

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AN: Alduin really can't catch a break. Or rather, it's more like Harry can't catch a break, but he doesn't know that yet.


	50. The Naming

Alexandra's confinement ended much sooner that Alduin was ready for it to do so, and it was time to throw a party in celebration of Wynn's birth. The naming ceremony was to be very private, with only those friends and family who followed at least roughly similar religious traditions – plus the Shafiqs, who were as far removed from Alduin's religion as they could get, but close enough friends to come anyway - , but after that, it would turn into a full-blown garden party.

The Shafiqs came first, in fact, and Abdullah took one look at Alduin and dragged him into a corner for a quick word. "Alduin, you have to talk to me," he said. "Father refused to tell me what was wrong, but he did indicate you revealed something rather dramatic to them, and frankly, you look like shit."

"Is it so obvious?" Alduin asked tiredly.

"Not to most others, I suppose, but Isobel can tell just as well as I do, and so will Mercurius, Ginevra...or Eliza."

"The last two aren't coming," Alduin muttered, feeling even more tired.

"Of course. Still, you need to talk to someone, or you'll crack. Me, Isobel, Mercurius, I don't care." He sighed. "It's a pity you and Alexandra decided to be monogamous for the moment, otherwise I'd recommend..."

Alduin stared. "Coming from you," he said, "it means I really must look like shit." Then he sighed. "You know that is all over and done with."

"Yes – I don't understand why, though. You ended it because of Eliza, and that _is_ truly over, for obvious reasons, but..."

Alduin shook his head. "No," he said. "Not possible, and unnecessary. But you're right, I do need to talk to someone. It's just...I don't want to bother Alexandra with it all. I told her some of it, but...She has her hands full enough, with Wynn."

"I understand – I still remember what it was like when Abdulaziz and Gamila were little – but you will need to tell her in time. For now, however...just talk to us, okay?"

Alduin nodded tiredly and Abdullah left him to be sociable and to admire the baby, as etiquette demanded.

Fortunately, it was still only the Shafiqs who were present, so no one much witnessed their whispered conversation. Muhammad was looking at him with understanding, and Isobel smiled encouragingly. Alduin tried not to resent it.

Having no wish to talk about things right now, he headed to Mrs. Muhammad, who could be trusted to always be appropriately light and cheerful in company. "Your son is a true gem," she said when he approached her. "You must be proud."

"I am," Alduin answered freely. Wynn, in spite of all the complications he brought with him, was also the one thing keeping him afloat right now.

"How did Harry like his new cousin?"

Alduin didn't particularly wish to talk about Harry, but he said: "Oh, he was immediately enamoured. Of course when he was at home, he couldn't really do much apart from holding him for a short moment very carefully, but I think that during the summer, they'll spend a lot of time together."

Mrs. Muhammad laughed. "I don't want to ruin your illusions about the genius of your child, Alduin, but Wynn still won't be capable of much more than being held in the summer."

Alduin smiled. "I know. Still, when he's bigger he at least won't feel quite so fragile to Harry." Or to me, he added mentally.

The Burkes arrived, then, with a plethora of gifts for their new relative's naming day, and Alduin was obliged to make them feel welcome. Ollivanders came not too long later, and then it was just a moment of waiting for the Yaxleys and the Selwyns before the ceremony took place.

Alduin didn't remember much of it, to be truthful, and wasn't very capable of judging how smoothly it went. He didn't drop Wynn in its course and didn't forget the words he was supposed to say, so he was inclined to count it as a success.

They all drifted out to the garden for the food afterwards, awaiting the arrival of the other guests. The parties really were much smaller during the school year, Alduin mused as he watched them trickle in. Thank gods.

Kinglsey came to him and greeted him with a nod. "All recovered?" He asked.

"It wasn't me, primarily, who needed recovery," Alduin replied with a forced smile, lying through his teeth. Alexandra had certainly recovered from the birth much more easily than he had from the news he'd received.

"I don't know. You wouldn't be the first father I know who took the birth worse than the mother. Just ask Nathan, about when Maurice was born. He was out of his mind."

"Then I'm glad I hadn't asked him before, it would have just stressed me out!"

"Ha! True enough, I suppose." He nodded in goodbye and passed further into the garden, and next, Titus Davies was standing by him, congratulating him on Wynn. "And how's Harry doing with the exams preparation?" He asked then.

"Well, I hope," Alduin replied, mentally sighing that the conversation turned to his ward again. That was one door he did his best to keep as firmly shut as possible, at least during the day. During the night, with a bottle of firewhiskey by his side, was another matter. He could not escape the thoughts forever, and the night was the time they caught up with him. The drink helped, though.

"It's of course difficult to oversee him at a distance," he said to Mr. Titus, "but I do my best, and at any rate I can tell he is studying now, which is reassuring." He paused. "Do you agree with Mrs. Leartes that he has a natural knack for Defense?"

"Oh, absolutely! I don't think I have someone who equals him in natural talent in all my classes." He shrugged. "Hermione Granger still gets the best marks, of course – from what I gather, she does so in every subject – but she cannot touch Harry in practical application."

Alduin thought about the name. It rang a bell. "Hermione Granger? The Muggle-Born Ravenclaw?"

"The very one. Do you know her?"

"Harry told me about her. He met her on the train in September, and from what I can gather, there's a sort of distant friendship between them."

"That girl is truly extraordinary. Horatio took her under his wing, and I think it shows political acumen to outdo even his father, to be honest."

Alduin privately snorted. Given that Perseus Yaxley became a Death Eater in the end, it wasn't that hard to have more political savvy than he did, to Alduin's mind. But then again, there was always the mystery of Lucius Malfoy. Outwardly, he smiled and asked: "Is Roger friends with her as well?"

"Well, yes – I mean, with him being so close to Horatio, how could he not be? I think they formed a very nice sort of support group for her, yes..."

That gave occasion to another private smirk of Alduin's. Apparently, Roger hadn't shown quite as much political acumen as his friend, and his grandfather was slightly irritated.

Mr. Titus left, and Alduin found himself standing alone for a moment. That, he knew, was dangerous. When he was alone, when he had a moment of calm, his thoughts inevitably strayed into one territory, and it was a territory he could not afford to as much as touch in the middle of a crowded garden party. He looked around, a little panicked, and made a beeline for the Yaxleys standing not too far away from him. Small talk, he thought desperately. Small talk was the perfect distraction.

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If Harry thought that the school was in a studying frenzy a month ago, he now realized it had nothing on what the situation looked like only a few days before the exams. Even the Gryffindor common room was quiet most of each day, and only erupted in bouts of frenzied activity so late in the evening that no one felt up to any more studying. The time when this happened was moving to later and later as the exams approached.

It was in the state of such transition right now. Most first years have already given up, but Harry and Neville were still at it – whether motivated by knowing of their guardians' expectation or their own conscientiousness, not even they themselves knew – trying to understand some complicated Transfiguration principles. "I think I've got it," Harry said, "it's that you need to think about the borders of the object-no, wait, that doesn't make sense, because some other transfigurations actually change things within it..." He sighed. "I give up. We need help."

He fished one of is two-way mirrors out of his pocket, and called Draco. "Harry?" The blond said from the other end, surprised. "What makes you call so late?"

"I haven't woken you, have I?"

"Are you kidding? Of course not, it's not even ten yet, but still..."

"We're trying to figure out some Transfiguration business and failing miserably. Can you give us a hand?"

Draco snorted. "Do I look like a master of Transfiguration to you?" He asked. "You have a Potions problem, I'm your man. Charms? Right with you. But no Transfiguration." He sneered a little. "Call Granger, I'm sure she's great at it."

"Yeah, probably, but one problem: I don't have a mirror paired with hers." Harry paused. "Is Theo there?"

"Yeah..."

"Can you pass him the mirror, then? I'm sure he can figure it out."

"I don't know, transfiguration isn't exactly his forte either, but fine, I'll pass the mirror."

Theo appeared, looking as surprised as Draco had been. "Yes?"

"Listen, Theo, have you figured out the theoretical part of the basic Transfiguration principles?"

Theo stared at him. "Um, yes, of course," he said then. "I mean, we did that back in October or something. Don't tell me you still don't get it?"

"...I don't?" Harry replied, trying not to feel like an idiot.

"How do you Transfigure stuff, then?" Theo asked, apparently confused.

"I just do. You know, when it feels right, it changes."

Theo shook his head. "You can't transfigure without understanding the principles."

"Well, clearly, I can," Harry replied a little irritably.

"No, that's what I'm telling you – if you're managing successfully, it means you understand what to do on some level, you just don't know how to verbalize it." Theo paused. "Think really carefully what you do when you transfigure stuff, okay? If you think about the steps, I'm sure you'll realize what the principles are actually saying."

"Theo," Harry said, his frustration mounting, "I have no clue what I do. I just thing about what I want that stuff to turn into, and if I'm lucky, it does."

Theodore groaned. "Okay," he said, "I'm calling in Daphne."

So the mirror was passed once again, and Daphne grinned at him. "So, Transfiguration issues?"

"Yeah..."

"It's one of my best subjects, so spill."

Harry described his problem, and Theo's theory. "Theo is totally right," Daphne agreed, "but I'm not sure I can explain the problem via a mirror-call. Do you have time tomorrow afternoon?"

"I guess..."

"Right. Meet me at Great Hall door after last class, I'll do my best to explain."

"Thanks!"

"No problem. Good night, Harry!"

"Good night."

Harry put the mirror away, and turned to Neville. "So, I got us some assistance!"

Daphne ended up tutoring most of Gryffindor's first year, and while she successfully explained the problem they had, thanks to Parvati's questions, they ran into some stuff that not even she could figure out. "You'll have to ask someone older, I guess," she said.

"Or Hermione," Harry pointed out.

"I suppose," she agreed with obvious reluctance.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Daphne, you too?"

"Oh, give me a break, Harry. I don't hate her, but she is super irritating. You don't have classes with her, do you? So it's easy to judge. I mean, she knows the answer to every single question the teachers ask, and never forgets to let us know. It's hard not to resent that at least a little."

"I'd expect that'd be a common problem with Ravenclaw," Harry replied. It was true he never had any classes with them, but that's how he always imagined them: a forest of hands constantly in the air. As far as he was concerned, it would be a good thing. At least it would lower the chance of a teacher calling on him unexpectedly.

"Well, yeah," Daphne said slowly, "it's true that one of them always raises their hand, but it's someone else every time. Granger always does, every single time, and seems about to burst out of her chair while doing so. Even her housemates make fun of her for that, even though I guess it's a bit more kindhearted."

"Yeah, okay, but that's still no reason to protest asking her about something she understands..."

"I didn't protest. But do you actually know she understands it? I mean, we know she's a swot at Herbology, but..."

"Horatio says she's basically super-smart in everything."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Of course he does."

"I'm actually surprised he didn't explain to her that she shouldn't do this kind of stuff," Harry mused. "I mean, I thought that was what he was teaching her, how to behave in the wizarding world."

"Maybe he thinks it's fine?" But before Harry could say anything, Daphne shook her head. "No, he wouldn't." She thought for a moment. "It's a bit better now than it was in September, I guess," she said then. "So maybe he is teaching her something? I'll try to watch her more carefully, you made me interested now..."

Harry was curious now, too, though about something else, and after dinner, he made his way to the Ravenclaw table, looking for the know-it-all in question.

"Hermione," he said, catching her as she was leaving with her friends, "how well would you say you understand the principles of Transfiguration?"

"Pretty well, it's my favourite subject. Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Well, Daphne was tutoring us in it in before dinner and Parvati had some questions she couldn't answer..."

"Really? What did she ask?" Parvati's sister questioned curiously.

"Uh, I'm not sure I could properly represent it...but do you think you could come over and answer it?"

The entire group of Ravenclaw girls ended up coming over to the Gryffindor table, and the discussion was soon way over Harry's head. He wondered whether Parvati had been sorted into the wrong house.


	51. Quidditch Final

AN: Sorry for disappearing for almost two months. I had a sudden bout of real life productivity and felt like I should make use of it, since it doesn't happen often and doesn't last long. Unfortunately, it's not really compatible with writing fanfic.

I'd like to concentrate more on my other long story now, since that's nearing its end, but I will do my best to update Family Ties at least once a month, to avoid these large gaps, and make it up to you when The Nolde is finished.

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Alduin had truly intended to find a moment to go and talk to Abdullah in the last couple of weeks, but he simply didn't have the strength. During the day, there was too much to do, and he bitterly envied all those whose families were still alive now, realizing for the first time how helpful it was when you have a house full of relatives available to care for you child for effectively any lengths of time. Thinking back to his childhood, he realized how often his parents had been gone, leaving him with his uncle or grandparents or great-grandparents, and that this was something that wouldn't be available to him and Alexandra. The thought was a little frightening.

And during the nights, when Wynn was put to sleep and Alduin's work and social obligations for the day were done, unwanted thoughts started to pry on his mind and he knew only one way to escape them, the way that led to forgetting everything.

He was relapsing, and he knew he was relapsing, but he couldn't muster enough energy to care. His ward was partly possessed by Riddle, and it seemed he was doomed to die, one way or another. What did it matter whether he was an alcoholic or not? What did anything matter? During the day, it was Wynn what kept him going, but during the night, it was hard to remember anything but the sinister presence in Harry's scar and the various scenarios tied to it. Would Alduin have to kill his ward himself one day, he wondered, to save his family? Would he have to ask he boy to kill himself? Would Dumbledore find out, and kill him?

And so he drank, because when drunk enough, he didn't remember any of this. That seemed to him to be worth a lot.

However, they were dining with the Shafiqs tonight, and Alduin was cringing in advance, expecting some harsh words from his friend. But in fact, Abdullah didn't talk to him much, in the drawing room or during dinner. When they were gathered in the receiving room to leave, however, Alduin was shocked to see Alexandra suddenly wave at him and disappear in the flames with a "don't come back before midnight".

"So," Abdullah said, and Alduin realized they were alone in the room now, "a glass of whiskey is in order, I think."

Whisky has been in order for Alduin every night for a few weeks now, though considerably more than a glass, so he was only happy to agree. They returned to the drawing room, and after Abdullah poured, he said: "So, spill. What's the devastating news?"

"How much did your father tell you?" Alduin asked, drinking deeply.

"Nothing, really. Only that it was serious and potentially concerned the future of us all."

"Yeah, you could say that." Alduin shook his head. "First, in winter, I go to the Depertment of Mysteries to find out what's up with this supposed prophecy about Harry, only to find out he is destined to either kill Riddle or be killed by him. Then I ask the transcendentals over to discuss some anomalies Harry has reported about his scar, and the most likely answer they come up with is that Harry has a freaking Horcrux inside of him."

Abdullah frowned as he tapped his glass to neutralize the alcohol inside. "A what?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Not a transcendental, I forgot. But you know the story about the villain hiding his soul somewhere…?"

"Yeah, in a phylactery, go on."

"...you do realize that's the Muggle term for it?"

"Well, I never knew the wizarding one, so-"

"Yeah. That's it."

"That's what?"

"That's the wizarding term. Horcrux. It's the wizarding name of a phylactery."

Abdullah stared at him. "Did you just- what?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, did you just say your ward had a bit of someone else's soul in him?"

"I didn't say it. Mrs. Gerard Ollivander did."

Abdullah closed his eyes, slowly exhaled, and took a long sip of his bastardized whisky. "Dare I ask whose soul?" He said then, his eyes still closed.

"I think you can figure that one out for yourself."

His friend opened his eyes to look at him. "You've got to be bloody joking."

"Afraid not."

"How can you get it out?"

Alduin gave him a wordless look, and extended his empty glass for a refill.

Abdullah frowned at him.

"Look," Alduin said, "I know your stupid 'no more than one glass' rule, but we're talking about my ward and cousin, and the boy I swore to protect when I took him in, possibly having to die to take Riddle down. I think I'm entitled to at least two."

Abdullah sighed, but he obliged him, even though his own glass went without being refilled.

"So...what's the plan now?"

"Praying it isn't true? There's one other possible solution, and though it's much less likely, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for that, and do nothing unless Riddle comes back and it becomes an immediate concern. Then I'll perform a whole lot of experiments on Harry to make sure it really is like that. And if it is..."

There was a very long silence.

"I guess there is a silver lining," Alduin said then, "even though it makes me feel like an utter bastard to think about it this way. There's a prophecy, and it says that Harry has the power to defeat him. So they might be both going down when it finally happens. Only...the power by which he can do it is love. I talked about it to Dumbledore, and he thinks I need to encourage Harry to be as open and affectionate as possible, and to be around open and affectionate people...but at the same time, not to love his life too much, because then he could become reluctant to play the part he needs to. And, mind you, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore doesn't actually know about the Horcrux business, so that would only support his ideas. So Harry's coming home from Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, and I'm supposed to treat him like a loving relative while knowing this. Easter has been hellish enough, but I only knew about the prophecy then. I can't imagine how this is going to work."

Abdullah wordlessly poured him a third glass.

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Unbelievable as it was, the exams were finally over, and Harry and his friends could go celebrate outside. Even the weather cooperated, and after being terrible most of the exam week, it improved now, and was nice enough that they could hang out in the grounds,. Of course, most of Harry's time was taken by intense last-minute Quidditch training, but even that was relaxing now that he no longer had to study. His Gryffindor friends sat in the stands and cheered them on, and Neville and Ron then walked with him to visit Hagrid.

Passing the Hufflepuffs having a picnic in the grounds, they found him sitting in front of his hut, carving something. "So the exams are over, eh?" He asked them when he saw them. "How do you think you did?"

"Terribly," Neville muttered, with Ron nodding alongside him.

Harry rolled her eyes. "I think we did okay. I know I probably did, and I studied with Neville and knew what he knew, so-"

"You don't know how nervous I get," Neville muttered. "I just know I mucked up Potions."

Harry's second eyeroll was even more pronounced. "Yeah, anyone would get nervous with Snape breathing down their neck the way he did. I wonder if he wants us to fail. I mean, we don't even get House points for this, so why'd he..."

"I'm sure he just want to prepare you as well as he can," Hagrid said firmly.

It was Ron who rolled his eyes this time. "Yeah, right," he said. "The way he was tyrannizing Neville until Harry's family ghost told him to stop was for his own good too, right?"

Hagrid looked interested, and so Harry retold the story. To his disappointment, though instead of admitting that Snape really treated Neville miserably during the first term, the groundkeeper concentrated on the person of Miss Brigit.

"What is it like, having your own family ghost?" He questioned.

Harry shrugged. "She keeps to herself," he said, "and doesn't like people to bother her. She mostly tutors me in Potions, since they aren't really Alduin's or Alexandra's forte."

"I'm surprised there's a subject your cousin isn't good at," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, I was, too, but clearly, Potions, Herbs and Magical Creatures are mostly beyond the grasp of both."

Hagrid was astonished. "Creatures? Imagine that! They're the most interesting thing!"

"Yeah, we know, Hagrid," Ron said. "Just please don't get another dragon."

"Or a Cerberus either," Harry added.

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On the day of the match itself, Oliver Wood was almost frantic. "I know they complained about a short game last time," he muttered to Harry, "but I'd really appreciate one this time. I have a Potions OWL on Monday and I really need to review."

Harry nodded. The person who scheduled the match really should be taken to task, whoever it was. This was terrible for Oliver.

They marched on the pitch and Harry nodded to Roger, the only player he knew in the Ravenclaw ranks. He wondered if that would change in future – most Ravenclaw children he knew were younger than he was.

Once the game started, he flew above the pitch, looking for the Snitch and hoping he wouldn't see it all that soon and so would be spared the dilemma. But of course, he wanted the opposing team's Seeker to find it even less. He tried not to be distracted, but he couldn't help but keep a track of how many goals Gryffindor scored, and it was as he was cheering for the fourth one, scored by Angelina, that he saw the Snitch out of the corner of his eyes, flying away.

He almost fell off his broom.

He immediately veered it around and started the pursuit, high up above the goals posts. A short while later, he was noticed both by the commentator and by the Ravenclaw Seeker, who was at his heels much quicker than Harry would have liked. Apparently, he had a good broom, too, and Harry had to put all of his skill in quick flying into keeping his lead, bending so low he was effectively lying on his broom.

But still, his head start paid off, and in a desperate grab, Harry leaned forward and grasped the little golden ball in his hand.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The match was over. They have won the Cup.

Harry landed amidst loud cheers, and the rest of the team landed next to him, embracing him and shouting in joy, Wood most touched of all. "I said it," he was repeating over and over again, "I said it, didn't I? That Potter was as good as Weasley, that we would get to the Cup with him."

And, indeed, they walked up to Dumbledore in the stands, and Oliver took the Quidditch Cup from him and held it above his head, and the crowd's cheers reached almost deafening proportions. Harry didn't remember ever feeling so happy in his life.

When finally got down to the pitch and to his own friends, it was once again Ron who was the most enthusiastic, even though Seamus, Dean and Sophie weren't too far behind. It took Harry a while to get through their hugs to Neville and Lavender's more muted congratulations. Parvati only nodded at him. "Did you even go to see the match?" Ron asked her, irritated, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I did," Parvati replied evenly, "but mostly to keep Lavender company before it started. I really don't care about Quidditch."

Ron seemed almost personally offended, and turned to Harry, pretending Parvati didn't exist, to ask: "So, did you let the Snitch go the first couple of times to prolong the match to twenty minutes?"

Harry laughed. "No. I told you it was mostly luck last time! It was the first time I saw it, I swear. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd seen it in the first few minutes, to be honest."

"Well, you could have easily let it go," Ron replied. "I mean, unless Ravenclaw scored twenty-two goals _and_ caught the Snitch, they couldn't have overcome us in the Cup score, and that was pretty bloody unlikely."

Harry nodded. "You're right as far as we're only talking about the cup, but well, we wanted to win the match as well, didn't we? I can't just let the Snitch go when I see it!"

Ron grinned: "Yeah, sure, I get that," he said. "It's just that...well, you said yourself that it was mostly luck that you got to the Snitch so soon in the match against Hufflepuff. You have to count on the chance that someone else gets lucky next time. You have to think abut the score as well."

"Ron, are you chewing me out for catching the Snitch so quickly in that Hufflepuff match?"

Ron looked guilty.

"You're not the first person to do it," Harry said, "but I'm just surprised. You were so enthusiastic then!"

"Well I'm not really thinking about that," Ron said hesitatingly, "it's more...I mean, against Hufflepuff it was a good strategy, because like you said, they have a pretty good Seeker and there was a real risk he could have gotten to the Snitch before you, but later I realized you weren't thinking about it like that...and against the other two Houses, who have crap Seekers, it really would have been better to wait for a while longer, so..."

Harry looked at him for a moment. "Next year," he said then, "I'm recommending you to Wood to help him with planning strategy. What you say seems to make much more sense than his long lectures that always put us to sleep."

Once again, Ron blushed.


	52. Power The Dark Lord Knows Not

Muhammad came to Travers Manor only a week after Alduin's drink with Abdullah, to tell him about his conclusions regarding strengthening Harry's love. "Wynn is definitely a blessing in this," he said, drinking tea in the afternoon parlour. "Every study I could find indicated that very young children, particularly for those who aren't they primary caregivers, can serve as the strongest impetuses."

"For those who aren't primary caregivers?" Alduin frowned. "I'd have thought that it works best for parents."

"Well, yes, of course, parental love is a separate matter entirely, and one that is more complicated, but we can hardly expect Harry to experience that any time soon. What I'm talking about here is that when you're not a parent, biological or otherwise, but are by circumstances forced to become a primary caregiver, the love you feel for the baby can sometimes be equalled by the frustration and tiredness you experience, so the net result might not always be beneficial. The same goes for people who are not primary caregivers, but are forced to spend equal amount of time with the child or children as if they were." He paused, and seemed to hesitate. "There's another exception to this rule, and that's sibling jealousy. Do you think that is likely?"

Alduin considered it. "I don't think so," he said. "I can't be sure, of course, but Harry didn't seem upset about Wynn at any point, and, on the contrary, seemed excited. So, fine, have Harry spend a lot of time with Wynn, but not too much time. Anything else?"

"Animals often help in this case, especially dogs or other kinds that like interacting with people."

Alduin grimaced. "Could we perhaps get a dolphin for our garden pond instead?" He asked rhetorically.

Muhammad rolled his eyes at him, and continued: "Given the nature of the task Harry will be faced with, I think some kind of animal that shows affection while at the same time requires a degree of care and responsibility on his part would be best."

"I can't get him a dog," Alduin pointed out. "He couldn't take it to Hogwarts, and being away from it most of the year would be rather counter-productive."

"That's for you to decide, of course. I'm only presenting what I found."

"Fine, dogs and children. Anything else?"

"Copious reading."

"Really?" That was, finally, some good news.

"Novels, to be precise."

Well, that was a little worse, but still, not too bad. "Anything more specific?"

"Well, obviously preferably novels where the heroes display the capacity you're trying to strengthen in Harry. I don't think modern literature would be particularly useful."

"That's unexpectedly conservative of you," Alduin said archly.

"Oh, give it a rest. I don't mean to say that all modern stuff is immoral. But books that are strong on narrative and character psychology are best for this, and neither of this is true about the modern things, you know that. I'm aware that you swear by Korai, but reading about a guy living one day of his life over and over again is more likely to make Harry want to kill himself than save others."

 _Isn't that the point,_ Alduin wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. No need to be unpleasant.

"Actually," Muhammad was continuing, "I know this might be uncomfortable for you, but Harry was raised a Christian, right?"

"In a manner of speaking..."

"Refreshing the gospel story in his mind might be beneficial for him."

Alduin groaned. "Don't tell me your research showed that Christians were, on average, more moral? Have you forgotten the witch burnings?"

Muhammad rolled his eyes. "No," he said. "What the research does show is that people who hear about self-sacrifice in positive light are more likely to be willing to risk their life for a cause down the road."

Clearly, Muhammad had been inspired by his own suicide witticism, too. This was entering uncomfortable territory. Alduin was fully ready to do anything to improve Harry's chances of survival, he had been preparing to do that since he first heard the prophecy in winter and came to terms with it. But he was much less comfortable with grooming Harry to lay down his life. He was far from accepting the Horcrux as a fact, and though ever since his talk with Abdullah, the constant feeling of being on the verge of a panic attack if he allowed himself to think about it lessened a little, he still needed copious amount of drink to forget every night. He was by no means ready for this conversation.

He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that if Riddle won, they'd all be dead, Harry included. There still might be another solution than having Hary die, but it was almost certainly going to involve some degree of selflessness from Harry. This was no time to balk. He would get through this, and get drunk later. "Can I just tell him about Prometheus, then?" He asked lightly.

"Jesus, Prometheus, Hussain, I don't care. He just needs to be shown that this is a positive trait. And reasons to fight for, as well – Wynn is fine, but let's face it, you aren't exactly the family most endangered by Riddle."

Alduin stared at him. "You have got to be joking."

Muhammad grimaced. "Okay, no, sorry, that was completely thoughtless of me. Obviously you were one of the most targeted families, but what I mean is, you can hide pretty effectively, and you're still pure-blooded, so unless you fight, you're fine. Harry will probably need someone he perceives weak and unprotected and in danger, for whose defence he could fight – since concentrating on the hatred he might feel would obviously be counter-productive. Does he have any Muggle friends from his old life?"

"Not...exactly, but there are two Muggle-Borns he's friendly with in his year in Gryffindor, and another in Ravenclaw."

"Not exactly defenceless, but I suppose it will have to do. Perhaps meeting their families could be beneficial as well. I know I'm asking a lot of you here..."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "I think I can handle a couple of Muggle families – honestly, it's more time that's the issue here. But I'll do my best. Anything else?"

"Not that I've discovered so far. But I'll let you know if I find something."

"Thanks, Muhammad. I owe you."

"No you don't. It's the future of our world at stake. It's just coincidence that it was born into your family..."

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It was a strange feeling, leaving Hogwarts for two months. Harry and his friends walked through the halls and grounds on the last day, chatter with Sir Nicolas and went to say goodbye to Hagrid, flew together for the last time, and faithfully promised to write to each other and visit each other if possible. Sophie and Dean were looking a little morose in this respect, and Harry didn't want to give too many promises, not knowing if Alexandra was fit enough for visitors again. But they could all at least agree on meeting in Diagon Alley to shop for school supplies, and did so.

The ride home on the train was cheerful. Their compartment was completely full and the door was open, and Harry was wandering to the Slytherin one from time to time, or Draco to theirs, though Harry noticed that he never entered it. Some things took time to change, he guessed.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were sitting a little down the train, and Daphne, who had argued with Pansy, was spending the way with the Eagles. Harry felt sorry it hadn't been Pansy who had left. He was still not on speaking terms with her, and this way, Daphne couldn't be part of his conversations with Draco and Theo like she usually was. He visited the compartment once, to speak to her and Hermione, and was surprised to actually discover them in conversation. Would wonders never cease?

But he didn't fit into that compartment, so he didn't stay long and returned to his own House mates soon after.

"What are your plans for the summer?" Draco asked, leaning on the corridor wall.

"I dunno," Harry replied, "garden parties and visits, I guess? Do you know the schedule?"

"Yeah, my parents are throwing one this week, to celebrate me coming back from first year at Hogwarts. Then there's one at the Burkes and one at the Crabbes, but I guess you won't be going to that one. After that, I don't know."

"There's probably going to be one for my birthday, too," Harry mused, "but I don't know if the Traverses are planning anything else. I mean, I know they hosted a couple of events last summer, but I'm not sure how much time they'll have with Wynn around."

"I don't think your cousin would let that stop him," Draco replied. "Or his wife, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they're very...driven. Ambitious."

Harry bristled. "And your parents aren't?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, it was a compliment. Of course they are."

"Oh. Okay."

"You've been spending too much time with the Gryffindors," Draco assessed, smirking.

"Well, you've got the whole summer to undo the damage."

"Ha! Don't tell me you won't be hanging out with them all the time."

"Not all the time...but yeah, we'll see each other quite often, probably, especially with Neville and Ron." Harry looked at him challengingly. "Will you not be seeing Pansy?"

"Point taken." Right on clue, Pansy raised her voice inside their compartment about something Blaise had said, and Draco grimaced. "Sometimes I think you made the right decision," he muttered.

"Of course I did."

Seamus called a question to him at this moment, and he stuck his head in to answer, and when he turned back around, Draco wasn't there any more. Shrugging, Harry made his way back to his House mates, plopping down next to Neville.

"Dreading the holidays?" He asked quietly, mostly masked by the others' loud conversation about Quidditch League.

Neville gave him a look. "Not as much as I thought," he replied after a moment. "Gran really does treat me better lately, and I know I'll be seeing you regularly, and Ron too, so that helps me feel better about it. And I do look forward to seeing my family, really, only...well, I'd be happier if it wasn't for two months."

"I'll ask you over as often as I can, as long as Alexandra doesn't mind," Harry promised. "Maybe you could even stay at the Manor for a few weeks?"

Neville shook his head. "Gran would never let me," he said. Harry sighed.

"What about you," Neville continued, "are you looking forward to spending time with Wynn?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing him, yeah, though I don't know about spending time – I mean, he's just so little..."

Lavender turned to him with a question about the League teams just then, and so their private conversation was broken. Instead, they got involved in a lengthy discussion about each team's Beaters' ability, causing Parvati to leave for the Ravenclaw compartment. And as the sun approached the horizon, the Gryffindors had afternoon tea and chatted about the summer.

At King's Cross, Alduin was waiting for him with a smile. There was a lot of goodbyes, but also introductions, since Alduin hadn't met Seamus, Dean and Parvati yet, and seemed to have time now. He was very pleasant to everyone and bid them goodbye with a vague promise of seeing them at Travers Manor in the near future. Then, Harry took Alduin's arm, and they disappeared.

Back at the Manor, Harry was welcomed by Alexandra waiting for him in the receiving room, with Wynn in her arms. He had seen his little cousin through the two-way mirror during the term, but he was still shocked by how much bigger the baby had got since the last time he met him in person.

"Can I hold him?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course," Alexandra replied with a smile, and carefully handed him the child. Harry held him like he was made of glass, and stared at him with an entranced expression while Wynn tried to reach for his glasses.

"Yes, he does that," Alexandra said. "Be glad you don't have long hair."

Harry wanted to stay there, holding Wynn, a while longer, but it was time to head to dinner, so he reluctantly handed him to his mother and headed up to his room.

Dinner was used to tell his cousins everything about his last days at Hogwarts, and especially about exams.

"How was Defence?" Alexandra asked. "It must have been hard, an exam from a subject for which you'd had three different teachers in one year..."

"It wasn't easy knowing what will actually be on it," Harry conceded, "but Defence seems pretty easy to me, to be honest. But it's true that Seamus complained about it a lot."

"And how are all your friends?" Alduin asked, surprising Harry a good deal. Surely much more time could have been spent on the exams?

"Fine," he replied. "I wrote to you about the party we did for Dean, didn't I? Seamus was kinda irritated, because his birthday is the day after tomorrow, so he was sorry he'll miss celebrating it with us by just a few days."

"Why? Does he think his parents won't let him visit during the summer?"

Harry blinked. "Um, I think he didn't really think about it that way..."

"I understand his parents might not feel up to hosting such a gaggle of children, but if he wanted, you could all meet here and celebrate here."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course."

"Even with Wynn and all?"

Alexandra rolled her eyes. "Harry," she said, "the last time you suggested asking people over, I was in my confinement. People just don't come to visit during a confinement, that's the whole point. But having a child does not, in fact, prevent me from hosting parties, nor does it handicap me in any other way."

Harry thought of Draco, and grinned a little sheepishly. "I thought...with him sleeping so little, I thought you might be tired or..."

"It actually got better, he sleeps three to four hours in one go now, which is quite decent. So no, I'm not too tired to be able to entertain eight children in a Manor with a small army of house-elves, don't worry."

Harry nodded, and turned to Alduin. "Can I go write Seamus right now?" He asked. "He'd need to know soon..."

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That evening, Alexandra caught Alduin's arm as he was leaving for his study. "Harry is home," she said.

"I'm aware," he replied, a little confused.

"I mean to say," she continued with emphasis, "that while Wynn might be too small to realize what is going on, Harry most certainly is not. If you continue getting drunk every night in your office, he _will_ notice."

Alduin froze. So far, they had never addressed the matter directly between them. Alexandra was even less scathing with her disappointed looks this time around than she had been in winter, though that might just be because Wynn left her no energy for those.

"I'll do my best to be as inconspicuous as possible," he said after a moment.

"No," she replied, still in that hard tone of hers, "you'll get your best to get help. I thought that when I forced you to talk to Abdullah, you would actually continue talking to him-"

"I told him the gist of the matter. He can hardly take the problems away by a kind word."

"When you say told him the gist of the matter, do you mean whatever it is that is bothering you, or the gist of your _problem_?"

Alduin looked away.

"That's what you need help with," she told him, "not whatever it is that's causing you to relapse this time."

"I will not go to Abdullah to tell him I am a drunk," Alduin said firmly.

Alexandra gave him an arch look. "I know I said I won't treat you like a child," she said, "but it seems you give me little choice. You are the head of a house, Alduin, and you have a son and a ward, to both of whom you have a responsibility." She paused. "If you don't improve, and don't speak to Abdullah," she said, "I will."


	53. The Lost Prophecy

AN: Uh. Work everywhere. Life tip: don't send your thesis to your advisor last minute, forcing them to be working on it in intensive mode. It'll make them hate your work. If I wake up one more morning with yet another new version of the thesis in my inbox, I'm gonna scream.

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Seamus' parents did not, in the end, agree to his birthday party taking place in the Manor – Harry overheard Alduin saying something about them not wanting to seem like his vassals, but it made no sense to him, so he assumed he heard wrong – but the Gryffindor first years met in Diagon Alley for an ice cream again, at least. There was also the Malfoy party and, in fact, a Travers party soon afterwards, celebrating Alduin's and Alexandra's first wedding anniversary.

And apart from that all, too, Harry way having a good time. Even his studying-obsessed cousin agreed to give him some time off after his exams and return from school, though he had warned him that he would certainly want to do some reviewing and going over the new books later in the summer. But for now, Harry's days were entirely free, and he spent them by flying and by visits from Neville, Ron and Draco – the last one, of course, always separately. Harry asked Draco to bring Theo on one of those visits, but Draco told him that Theo's father was unwilling to let him go, and asking Daphne seemed strange, so they kept to themselves.

Harry was also spending a lot of time with Wynn. Babies were more of a mystery to him than complicated potions, and he watched, fascinated, as Litty, the house-elf in charge of Wynn, changed his diapers, or as Alexandra bathed him. He still tended to get embarrassed when the baby was breastfed, but Alexandra laughed at him for it, saying it was the same as if he got embarrassed when he watched Alduin eat dinner. Harry didn't entirely agree, but whatever he thought about it, it was hard to pull his eyes away, because Wynn was so fascinating. During Easter break, he had been so very small and fragile and slept most of the time – and cried the rest. But now he was much more active, and Harry went to his nursery every day to spend some time with the child as it lay on a blanket on the floor, showing colourful toys at him and trying to make him grab for them, watching him smile and even laugh his little baby laugh, and thinking he had never seen anything so precious in his life.

There appeared to be a lot of science involved, though. Alexandra watched Wynn very carefully and seemed inordinately pleased when, one day as the baby was lying on his belly, he raised his head and looked around. "What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"This is one of the very important things babies have to manage, Harry," she replied. "It indicates he's developing well, physically at least."

Harry was bemused. It seemed like such a small thing!

He also spent a lot of time catching up with his friends who weren't at Hogwarts yet, naturally, or with those from different years and houses that he didn't get to see so often. The Shafiqs came for tea soon after Harry returned from school, so he had an opportunity to spend time with Abdulaziz, and he spoke to Horatio at garden parties. Gamila has grown up, too, but the biggest surprise was definitely Ginny Weasley. Harry hadn't seen her for a year, and when he did, he found her transformed. She was no longer shy and quiet, and instead, it appeared she could rival her twin brothers in liveliness, though she was, perhaps, less destructive.

She was going to Hogwarts this year, and when she came with her mother to visit Alexandra, she questioned Harry relentlessly about the school.

"But you must know everything from your brothers!" Harry defended himself.

"Pff. Percy doesn't have time for me, Fred and George only tease, and Ron is unable to tell me anything of interest. But I did hear you were allowed to play Quidditch in your first year already. How did you do that? I don't want to spend a year without a broom!"

"I didn't know you played," Harry said, surprised.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, my brothers don't have much idea either. But I do. I love flying."

Harry considered. "Well...the way I did it was do some really outrageous flying during the first class, but it worked only because McGonnagal felt we needed a new Seeker. But the thing is, the team's in a pretty good shape now, and no one's graduated, so..."

Ginny sighed. "Typical."

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Alduin was only now beginning to fully appreciate the difficulty of his task in telling Harry the contents of the prophecy. Seeing him so full of joy and happiness during the summer, surrounded by his friends and without any worries, it seemed impossible.

In fact, he would have been tempted to just give it up as a bad job for this summer, and wait till he himself was feeling a little more steady – if such a time would ever come – but he had Alexandra on his heels, asking him at regular intervals when exactly was he planning to tell Harry.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing she kept asking him, if not with her words then with her eyes at least, and finally, he cracked under the pressure and decided that even admitting to Abdullah that he had a drinking problem would be less painful than enduring this constant fear of her going to him herself.

That, of course, had been when he was facing Alexandra. Now he was facing Abdullah in his own study, and was beginning to doubt his estimate. He dearly longed for a fortifying glass of whisky, but considering the point of the meeting, he didn't think that would create the best impression.

"Alexandra thinks I need to talk to you," he blurted.

"It's not the best testament to our friendship if you need your wife to order you to speak to me," Abdullah commented archly. "As I recall, you needed her to arrange it last time, too. Is this becoming a theme? Has something similarly alarming happened?"

"Not exactly. In fact, it's effectively still the same thing."

Abdullah grew more serious. "That's natural enough," he said. "You can't expect to just get over such news, and neither can she expect you to. I'm sorry I can't help you more."

Alduin shook his head. "She doesn't expect me to be fine, I think, but she does expect me to...avoid certain dangerous coping mechanisms."

Abdullah gave him a questioning look.

"I drink," Alduin said plainly, pushing all of his feelings about it behind his occlumency shields.

"Yes, I am aware," Abdullah said with a long suffering sigh. "And none of my speeches over the years-"

"No," Alduin interrupted him. "I mean that I drink more than I should."

"You mean-"

"Yes. I'm an alcoholic."

Abdullah only stared for a moment, speechless. "Why didn't you say anything?" He asked then, quietly.

"What was there to say?"

"Anything! I'm your friend, for God's sake – forgive me – and you should talk to me when you feel down, not turn to drink!"

"You have a family to spend time with. You hardly have time to babysit me," Alduin pointed out, ignoring his religious faux-pas. Under the circumstances, he thought it was perfectly forgiveable.

"I can't give you all my days and nights, no, but that doesn't mean I have no time for you!" He paused. "Is this because of the coma? Do you feel like you can't talk to me because of the nine years-"

"That's a problem you had, not me," Alduin reminded him gently. They had to get through that when he first woke up, find their way back to each other. "You spent nine years without me, not I without you."

"I know, but that's what I mean. Is this why you feel I would no longer make time for you? Because it's not true."

"No, that's not why." Alduin could see, however, that Abdullah did not believe him, and he saw a familiar look of guilt in his eyes that he remembered from those weeks after he woke up, too. "Stop it," he said. "I'm supposed to be the one who always feels guilty, out of the two of us."

"I don't want you to," Abdullah replied with a small smile, "so maybe that's why I'm taking it upon myself." He took a deep breath. "Okay, let's put my feeling that I'm being a terrible friend behind us and concentrate on the matter at hand. When did you start drinking?"

That was quite a loaded question, wasn't it? Alduin sighed. "That depends. After I got the news about the horcrux, is one answer. After I heard the prophecy, is another. I stopped for a while around the time Wynn was born, but the horcrux news made me relapse." He shrugged. "The first time I got really blindingly drunk since Harry came to live with me was in early December, but that was just a one off occurrence."

"And before Harry came to live with you?" Abdullah asked, clearly worried.

"Well, I spent many of the nights in the first month after I returned from hospital drunk," Alduin explained. It had been most of them, to be honest. "I guess I didn't drink quite as much, though, and I slowly stopped as I had more and more work to busy myself with. It affected my productivity. You know the hangover potions stop being effective after a time..."

"No," Abdullah said slowly, "I wouldn't. But my knowledge of Potions, meagre as it is, tells me that you have to drink quite a lot for them to stop." He gave Alduin a searching look. "Did you drink before the coma?"

"Well, yes. Since the day my parents died, till the day they took me," Alduin replied like it was obvious.

Abdullah looked desperate once again. "Why didn't you say anything back then?" He asked.

"At least you know it wasn't because of the coma," Alduin replied evasively.

"Yes, but why?"

Alduin sighed. "I don't rightly know myself. Maybe I was afraid I'd say too much, to you? Remember that I was suddenly he head of my house, at twenty. I felt there was a lot I had to live up to. Perhaps it's also that you've always had your life together more than I did, even before this."

"Don't say you were jealous of me, because I won't believe you."

"Not jealous, not really...but still. Things like the whole affair with Mercurius didn't happen to you. Maybe I thought you wouldn't understand."

"Did you just compare your family's death to a schoolboy crush someone had on you?"

Alduin frowned. "It was more than that," he said, "but never mind." He paused, hesitated. "I don't know, really," he said then, "I'm just trying to guess what I was thinking back them."

 _Great,_ he though to himself. _Now I'm lying in the middle of what is supposed to be a frank, therapeutic conversation_. But what could he say? In truth, he didn't need to guess – he still felt the same as before the coma, in this respect. He detested talking about this to Abdullah. Intellectually, he knew it was because he detested feeling vulnerable to anyone, and especially to his ever-perfect best friend, and he also knew it was not a constructive approach. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to admit, and he didn't feel obliged to. He had already admitted enough for one day. For one life, really, if he had any say in it.

Abdullah shook his head. "We got sidetracked again," he said, "or I did, I suppose. So, yes, the first step: pour out all the alcohol you have in your house."

Alduin stared at him. "And what, I'm going to offer my guests lemonade?"

"Yes," Abdullah replied, like it was no big deal.

"No," Alduin corrected him. "The main motivation I have to get this under control is the good of my house. I won't stop drinking only to have the reputation ruined."

Abdullah frowned. "Fine. So keep the port and the Madeira, and pour out the rest."

"I need at least some whisky around to entertain people," Alduin objected.

"No. That's your poison of choice. Even I know that. As long as that remains in the house, you won't get better."

Alduin stared at him, unwilling to relent. Abdullah stared back. Alduin realized he had never quite appreciated how strong-willed his best friend was.

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After this, Alduin gave himself a few days to regain his equilibrium – such as it was, these days – before he had one glass of whisky to steady his nerves and took Harry aside one morning. He had not drunk anything for the last few nights, hard as it had been, but this, he thought, was surely a justifiable occasion.

They had no party or visit scheduled for that day, and he hoped it would provide Harry with a bit of time to come to terms with what he was about to tell him.

The weather wasn't exactly stellar at the moment, so they ensconced themselves in one of the drawing rooms, and Alduin began. "After what happened at Hogwarts before Christmas," he said, "I contacted some of the people I know at the Department of Mysteries, and, as your guardian, gained access to the prophecy about you."

Harry stared. "So it actually exists? Did you hear it? What does it say?"

Alduin sighed. "Yes, I heard it. It...announces the birth of someone with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. He is to be born at the end of July, to parents who have defied Riddle thrice already, and Riddle is meant to mark him as his equal."

"And...you think that means me?" Harry frowned. "I mean, yeah, I was born at the end of July, but I don't know anything about marking, and I certainly don't feel like I have a special kind of power. And did my parents really defy Riddle three times?"

"They did. And as for the marking..." Alduin pointed to his forehead.

"The scar?" Harry seemed surprised. "How does that make me an equal?"

"Well..." Alduin hesitated about how to explain it, firmly shutting the door on that scream that wanted to escape him. "There's the connection to him you have in it, that manifested as pain when you met Quirrell. It probably appeared accidentally, but, nevertheless, it's likely what the prophecy means."

Harry's frown deepened. "I don't want a connection to Riddle!"

You don't know the half of it, Alduin though and fought the desperate urge to laugh, sanity forsaken. "Yes, I can understand that," he said after a moment to calm himself, "but nevertheless, you do have it. As long as he's not back, it's mostly irrelevant, but if he does come, we will...start thinking about getting it out."

"Why not right away?"

Once again, it cost Alduin some effort not to give away his feelings as he replied: "It could be dangerous for you, and usually these sorts of spells are the more dangerous the younger you are."

"Oh. Okay then...but what about that power?"

"It's open to interpretation, but I can tell you it's certainly not something as straightforward as being able to cast stronger spells. It's said to be a power the Dark Lord doesn't know. Nevertheless...well, let me tell you the rest of it first."

"That wasn't all?"

"No. It says, and I quote, 'either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives'."

Harry crunched that in his head for a moment. "So...I have the power to kill him, but if I don't, he'll kill me?"

"Yes."

Harry considered it. "Well...it's kinda good news, isn't it? I mean, we already knew he still wanted me dead, he proved that at Quidditch last year. This means I have a chance."

That was certainly one way of looking at it. Alduin had to admire Harry's positive outlook. "Yes," he agreed, waiting for more of a reaction, when it didn't seem to be coming, he cautiously added: "Like I said, it's probably not going to be about flashy magic in the end, but nevertheless, I'd like to start teaching you some bits about Defence and strategy you're unlikely to cover at school. If Riddle comes back, he might send Death Eaters after you, and you'll need to be able to survive that as well, before you can even use your mysterious power."

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "Didn't you say I shouldn't be too prejudiced against them, that they had very little choice and all that?"

Alduin gave a deep sigh. "That holds true now, when Riddle's gone. But the moment he comes back...once they joined hi for whatever reasons, he has very effective means of punishing them, and only very few are as brave as Professor Snape, to turn against him. We will have to tread very carefully then."

Harry nodded, and seemed ready to leave when he hesitated. "This is the prophecy my parents died for?" He asked.

"Yes," Alduin confirmed heavily.

This was the first moment in the entire conversation when Harry appeared truly upset. "Why did anyone make it at all?" He asked angrily.

"Harry, Seers don't choose to make prophecies. It just comes over them, and they predict."

"Oh. Still, it seems like such a stupid reason...you said it was overheard?"

"Yes, but it occurs to me that I didn't discuss this part with Dumbledore when I talked it him about it. I will have to get back to him, because we need details. I know the Death Eater in question was discovered and kicked out of the place at some point. So did he hear all of it? Does Riddle know the entirety? I'll have to check."

Harry nodded, and seemed to hesitate again.

"What is it?" Alduin asked.

"Juts...can I go upstairs now? I'd like to...think about it."

"Of course, Harry. Take as much time as you need."

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AN: I think that if Harry learned about the prophecy when younger, it would have been easier for him to digest (also it not being in extremely traumatic circumstances helps, obviously), since he wouldn't be quite able to grasp all the implications...

Also, can anyone tell me what that thing where babies raise their heads when lying on their bellies is called? We have a term for that in Czech, but I have no idea what to call it in English.


	54. Grim Secret

AN: So, as usual, I owe everyone a massive apology for the gap in updating. I had a summer from hell, and I was also eaten whole by another new fandom (Dragon Age this time), spending three months by basically nothing but reading fanfiction from that world. Hopefully I'll emerge now, though, and I'll do my best to make up the updates I've missed.

In case you've forgotten where we are now: Alduin told Harry about the Prophecy. He also told his best friend he had a drinking problem. Oh, and it's July.

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Harry didn't leave his room for the rest of the day, having Sibby bring him meals, and he didn't sleep much during the night either. Questions were chasing each other through his mind. The most prominent was, what was this superpower he was meant to have? Why had he not noticed it before? Did he really have it, was the prophecy right? Could prophecies be wrong, anyway?

Then there was the mysterious connection. He had never cared much about his scar either way, except to appreciate it because the Dursleys hated it, but now he knew this he wished it gone from his forehead as soon as possible. A connection to the man who killed his parents! It was disgusting.

The part about having to kill Riddle, on the other hand...Harry felt, from Alduin's look and words, that he should probably feel upset about it, but...he really, really didn't. As long as the prophecy was right and he had the power (and if it wasn't, then surely not even the part that he had to kill Riddle was true), then...why should he mind? It was great news that he'd be able to destroy this terrible wizard who went around killing people, and help the wizarding world to be rid of him. And Alduin would be training him, too, so that made him feel certain he'd be well prepared.

He wanted to talk this over with Neville, but realized he never asked Alduin if he could, so he sent Sibby with the question. It was in the affirmative, on the usual condition that Neville would be willing to be sworn to secrecy, and so Harry sent him a quick owl asking him to come over next morning.

He finally fell asleep in the middle of the night and missed breakfast in the morning, and, in fact, barely managed to get dressed and make it down before Neville came for elevenses. Harry stayed mostly silent as they ate, and only when they were up in his room, he said: "I've got something really important to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, not even your Gran or Ron or Sophie or any other of our friends."

Neville looked worried, obviously remembering when Harry told him about his parseltongue ability. "Okay," he said slowly, "I promise. What is it?"

"You remember how I told you they speculated there could be a prophecy about me, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So it turns out there really is one. And basically, it says that I have some superpower that Riddle doesn't have, and that it's enough to destroy him, but that if I don't kill him, he'll kill me."

Neville's eyes got impossibly large. "There really is a prophecy about you that says all that?" He asked at length.

"Yeah. Or Alduin says it's about me, anyway. It really only says that it's a boy born at the end of July whose parents have thrice defied Riddle and who will be marked by Riddle as his equal."

Neville was literally gaping now.

"What is it?" Harry asked, not understanding why this would be the most shocking part.

"Harry...do you know when my birthday is?"

"A day before mine, right."

"Yeah. And my parents...they were Aurors. They met Riddle in a direct fight...exactly three times."

It was Harry's turn to gape. "What?" He asked.

"Yes. So...what is this business with marking?"

"Alduin say it's my scar, but we have to ask him about it. This is too weird. Come on, now!"

Neville was hesitant, but Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him across the house and into the nursery, where he found both of his cousins playing with Wynn. "Alduin," he said, "we need to speak to you."

The man looked up and, seeing their expressions, he immediately rose and led them to his study. "What is it?" He asked.

"What if it's Neville?" Harry asked without preamble. "The Prophecy fits him as well."

"Harry...have you forgotten about the marking? I'm sorry, but it's you."

"But it's only your theory that the marking means my scar, isn't it? What if it's something else, and Neville has it?"

Alduin sighed. "Sit down, both of you," he said, settling down behind his desk. "I went to see Dumbledore yesterday," he continued. "About the things I mentioned. Riddle only knows the beginning of the prophecy, the date of birth, the 'thrice defied' bit, and that you have the power. His spy was caught then. So the point is, he chose to go and eliminate you, Harry, not knowing about the danger of marking you as his equal. Effectively, by doing so he marked you, because he decided that you were the one who could bring him down, you were the worthy opponent. In a way, the scar is a manifestation of that."

"But why did he choose me, and not Neville?" Harry insisted. Not that he wished it had been Neville instead whose parents had died, especially as that likely meant their fates would have just been switched, but...

"No one will ever really know, I suppose," Alduin replied. "But I did discuss this with Alexandra, and her theory is that he chose you because you seemed more like him. A half-blood, one parent from an ancient magical family, the other from Muggle background. Neville, who was the perfect scion of a pure-blooded family...well, that was rather less like Riddle." Alduin paused, and then, looking at Neville, said: "But you paid for the prophecy as well, so I believe it's a good thing you can hear it from Harry. It will help you understand. From what we know, it seems Bellatrix Lestrange knew about the prophecy, and she knew who were the two boys who could fulfil its requirements. Once Riddle disappeared, she somehow decided that the other couple whom it concerned had to be involved in the defeat. That was the reason why your parents were attacked, it seems."

Neville looked away and was blinking rather rapidly, so Harry tried to help him out by drawing away Alduin's attention, and he asked: "How do you know? I mean, you've only heard the prophecy recently, didn't you?"

"Some months ago, and I've discussed it with Alexandra a lot, to get her historical insight. This is her interpretation. The reason for the Longbottom attack has long been a mystery, much more so than the Potter one, and I think this is the first clue we've ever had."

Neville rose from his chair rather abruptly. "I...I think I'll go home now," he said.

"Of course," Harry got up immediately as well. "I'll accompany you."

Once they were outside, Harry pressed Neville's shoulder rather awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know, otherwise I wouldn't have..."

"It's all right," Neville said, rather unconvincingly. "I'm glad I know...I think. I just need a bit of time."

Harry could understands that, and so he saw Neville to the Floo and then returned to his room to think about this strange coincidence that bound him and his best friend together, and how it ruined both of their lives. Prophecies were terrible, he decided.

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Alduin was watching Harry very carefully in the following days, but it seemed the boy was more worried about how Neville was taking the news than about himself. That, Alduin supposed, was good, especially considering the power of love he was meant to be encouraging in his ward. Still, better safe than sorry, and so he waited another few days before he asked Harry for the first training session, as promised.

He had considered roping Kingsley in for these sessions, but he didn't quite feel ready to explain the prophecy. Big part of it, of course, was also that detailed questions about the marking and the scar could lead to the one topic Alduin was distinctly unwilling to talk about.

Abdullah now insisted on meeting him regularly and discussing both his drinking and his feelings about Harry's fate. Alduin had a strong suspicion his friend had been reading some books about mind healing. But he had to reluctantly admit that it was helping, a little. He still sometimes needed a drink or two to get through the day, but he mostly could handle the nights without it, and even get a few hours of sleep before nightmares interfered.

That still didn't mean he wanted to talk to anyone else about it.

He spent much of the first training session reviewing what Harry did at Hogwarts and asking him about it in detail. The net result was that he was almost happy Quirrell had Riddle inside of him and so had been sacked, because clearly, he had been a disaster of a teacher. Mrs. Leartes and Mr. Titus have apparently done a better job, not very surprisingly, and all in all, Harry was pretty decent in Defence. Certainly above-average with spells, though he was doing rather worse in theory, and knew nothing at all about strategy and tactics of fighting.

That was hardly taught at Hogwarts, of course, so it was natural enough, but it made it clear to Alduin what should be his priority. Strategy could be left for later, since hopefully it would be a long time, if ever, until Harry was required to plan an operation on his own, but tactics was a necessity.

"Where will you stand when you're fighting in a room, Harry?"

"Um...I dunno, I'll try to get to the door, I guess?"

"Yes, of course, but if the door is blocked?"

"I will try to avoid being pushed into a corner?"

"Actually, if you have no hope of getting out, a corner can be a very good place when you are alone. Your back and sides are protected there. But of course it can be hard to get away, so I recommend corners when you're alone, but can reasonably hope someone else will come to help you in time. Otherwise, or if you have at least one other person to watch your back, then keep to walls. That allows you to move."

They kept at it for some time, and towards the end of the hour Alduin had allocated for this, he asked Harry to try some simple spells.

"But isn't it forbidden outside of Hogwarts?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes," Alduin admitted, "but the rules weren't made with people who are prophesied to fight the Dark Lord in mind. Come on. You need to practice."

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Like last year, Alduin asked Harry what he wanted to do for his birthday apart from the usual garden party. Harry suggested another outing to a zoo or such, but this time, with all of his friends.

"I don't think that's quite within my capabilities," Alduin told him regretfully, "supervising that many children on an outing. Once you're older, by all means, but for now...either just pick a few friends – I can take you with Neville and Ron, and perhaps one or two others, anywhere you wish – or keep to the Manor."

So Harry gave it a lot of thought and decided that a small gathering for all of his friends, and only his friends, was in order. But before that, it was time for that more formal party. Since Neville wasn't allowed to have a proper party at home, Harry's more official one was organized on his friend's birthday and allowed him to, at least, sort of celebrate it with Harry and their other Ancient friends. Harry had suggested doing it the other way round, but Neville expressed some fear that his Gran could actually ban him from going to Harry's private party if it was directly on his birthday. "But a big garden party where she's asked, too, she won't want to miss and will reschedule my family celebration instead," Neville assured, and so it was done according to his wishes. After that prophecy fiasco, Harry was trying to go out of his way to cheer him up.

The party was nice, though.

It turned out that Roger apparently caught some of the same fourteen-year-old disease Maurice had last year, and tended to think that talking to 'little kids' was bellow him. Horatio, however, only rolled his eyes and dragged his friend to the group soon enough to ask how was everyone enjoying their summer.

"It's terrible," Kiara muttered. "Maurice's girlfriend is over all the time, and when she isn't, he only talks about her."

"So as bad as last year, then?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"I dunno. I mean, last year, Maurice himself was acting like a prat. This time around, he'd be acting mostly normal – if it wasn't for _her._ "

Fred and George were sniggering. "We can give you some tips for making him pay for it," Fred said then.

Kiara seemed interested, but Horatio gave them a penetrating look. "And are you certain this isn't just you getting back at him for something or other?"

"Spoilsport," George muttered.

"Maurice is going to be a fifth year now, isn't he?" Neville asked. "Do you think he'll make prefect?"

"I hope not," Kiara replied with feeling. "If he can only ever think about his girlfriend, he wouldn't make a very good one, would he?"

"Right," Horatio said, "and you'll be starting your new subjects. What did you pick?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy," Kiara replied.

"Oh, Arithmancy is great," Roger said immediately. "Good choice."

"Hm, yeah, but your other one should have been Runes," Horatio added. "Runes are the best."

"Bill would agree with you," Ginny Weasley joined the conversation, "but go talk to Charlie and you'll hear all about how Creatures are the best. I remember last year when the twins were about to make their choices, how they did their best to hammer it in."

Fred and George's grimaces of pain indicated that they remembered as well.

"But really, do let's talk to Bill and Charlie," Harry said. They looked very interesting, Charlie with his scars and Bill with his ponytail. "I barely spoke to them and they'll be gone in no time at all again, and I want to meet them properly."

Draco grimaced, making it clear what he thought of such a plan, but followed the others nevertheless.

The two eldest Weasleys seemed a little surprised when they found themselves surrounded by the older half of the wizarding elite's children. "Um, hello?" Charlie said.

"What can we do for you?" Bill asked.

"Er, Harry just wanted to talk to you," Ron muttered.

Harry blushed. "It sounds really weird, said like this," he said, "but I wanted to meet you properly. Ron talks about you a lot, and I know all of his other siblings, so..." He paused, and then remembered something Alexandra had said last year, about Ron or Bill exaggerating. "Could you tell us about your jobs?" He asked. "They sound really exciting..."

They brothers obliged. Fred and George wandered away soon after that, knowing the stories well already, but even Ron and Ginny stayed to listen, proud of their brothers, and in the end Draco was forced to admit that it was, actually, relatively interesting. It was also proven that it had been Ron who was exaggerating. Harry didn't quite understand why – the stories were impressive enough in their original form!

"But have you ever visited actual Egypt?" Abdulaziz asked when Bill finished his stories about pyramids. "I mean, do you just spend time with other Gringotts wizards in archaeological tents, or do you ever to Cairo or Alexandria or..."

Bill smiled. "Of course I visit the cities sometimes. Why?"

"Well, it just seems so strange to me that you talk about Egypt and it's a completely different Egypt than what I think of when you say Egypt..."

"You've been there?" Bill asked in some surprise.

"Yeah, we go every year." Abdulaziz turned to Harry and added with a smile: "It's a tradition the same guy who built our house as it is now started. To remember our roots, he said." He shrugged. "Anyway, I like it. It's a nice trip."

"Where do you go?" Bill asked with interest.

"Normally to Cairo for a few days and then it depends. Sometimes to Luxor, sometimes to Asuan...and sometimes we visit outside Egypt too, like last year we were in Kairouan in Tunisia..."

Bill and Abdulaziz were soon deep in conversation about places and things Harry had no clue about. He turned to Charlie with a sigh. "So," he said, "dragons?"

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AN: Because Egypt is not just the place with pyramids. Seriously.


	55. Dobby's Warning

AN: ...I said I'd try to make up my long absence, didn't I?

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A day later, the private celebration where all of Harry's friends were asked took place. That mean the entirety of first year Gryffindor, Draco, Theo, Daphne and after some hesitation even Milicent from Slytherin, Ernie, Susan and Hannah from Hufflepuff and Hermione from Ravenclaw. There was also Horatio and Roger, Kiara and Katie, Fred and George and Angelina and Alice from the older kids, and Abdulaziz, Edmund and Ginny from the younger ones. Harry had hesitated about asking Edmund, because he really wasn't that close to the boy, but they did see each other quite often last year and he didn't want him to be offended, so he asked him, even though he hadn't seen him for a long time now. He had asked Oliver Wood, too, but the Quidditch captain couldn't come.

It was fun. Alduin had explained that since this was just "a private gathering", as he had called it, it effectively meant doing away with any formality, to Harry's satisfaction. It was just like regular visits, only more people came at once. The house-elves prepared a lot of cakes and ice cream and other children's favourites, and the friends discussed Harry's presents from the day before as they sat sprawled in the garden by the lake.

There were some interesting comics and displayers, but what caused the most stir by far were Harry's tickets to the final match of International Quidditch Tournament.

"I'm so jealous," Ron muttered, holding the tickets almost reverently in his hands.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, correct me if I'm wrong, but you went to see the League finals two weeks ago, didn't you? So I don't see why you're complaining."

"But I've never seen any international matches," Ron defended himself.

"It's cool," Kiara conceded. "We're going too, Harry, so we can go together."

"I'll be there as well," Draco announced, to no one's surprise.

"Can _I_ say I'm jealous?" Sophie asked pointedly. "No chance of getting to see one of these, like, ever."

"Yeah," Dean nodded in agreement. "You should count yourself lucky, Ron."

"I'm sure you'll get to see a match one day," Harry tried to reassure them. "The Quidditch World Cup is in two years, isn't it? I think we should all agree to give you tickets for it for your birthdays or something. We could all go together."

"I'm not sure Gran would let me," Neville muttered.

"Oh, come on! I bet we can convince her."

"My family goes to the World Cup every time," Seamus chimed in, "and I was with them last two times, to see the finals. It's awesome, and I agree with Harry, we should all go."

Draco wanted to add something to the topic, but at that moment, Sibby appeared in the midst of their little group. Harry blinked at her, surprised. He knew perfectly well that no elves except for the butler and sometimes the personal elves normally appeared in front of visitors. It was considered bad form. Of course, this was not quite an official party like the one that had taken place the day before, or formal dinners and such, so the rules were much more relaxed, but still.

"Sibby apologizes, Master Harry, sir," she said. "But there is a house-elf here and he won't leave and he says he must speak with Master Harry. He says that it is very important."

"Um...okay," Harry replied, looking uncertainly around at his friends. "Send him here, then, I guess?"

Sibby disappeared, and appeared again in a moment with a different elf. The elf looked around, his eyes widened comically, and he started to run away.

"Dobby?!" Draco called in a shocked voice, and then, after he woke up from his astonishment a little, he added: "Come back here this instant!"

"You know him?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, it's Father's personal elf, but why would he want to speak to you…?"

Dobby returned, rather reluctantly, and now stood before them, looking to the ground.

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" Draco asked impatiently.

"What did you want to tell me?" Harry added.

The elf stayed silent. "Dobby," Draco said irritably, "I order you to answer Harry!"

"Dobby came to tell Harry Potter that Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts," the elf declared sullenly, still not looking up.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"That's nonsense! Stop bothering us and go away," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be telling Father about this."

Sibby was reaching for Dobby to take him away when Harry said: "No, wait. He must have a reason for saying this. Why do you think I can't go back to Hogwarts, Dobby?"

The elf stayed silent,

"Dobby," Draco said sharply, "I order you to answer."

Dobby gave him a mean look. "Because Harry Potter would be in mortal danger there!" He said then, defiantly.

"But why?" Harry insisted.

"Does Master Draco still order me to answer?" Dobby asked, and this time there seemed to be certain almost malicious pleasure in his tone.

"Yes, of course," was the terse reply.

"As you say, Master." Dobby bowed a little, and turned to Harry. "There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." The elf paused, gulped, and started to tremble before he added: "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically with his fist.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Dobby has to punish himself, Dobby is a bad elf..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop the dramatics and just answer him – or, if you can't, say so."

Dobby gave him an unfriendly look. "Dobby can't tell, sir," he said then.

"All right," Harry said. "You can't tell me. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Riddle, has it?"

Dobby nodded very slowly.

"It does?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Another nod.

"But you can't tell me what it is?"

A shake.

"All right then." Harry tried to think of other clever questions to ask, but he was drawing a blank. He turned to his friends, but they mostly sat in astonishment, and no one seemed ready to say anything. Horatio was whispering something to Roger, but was unwilling to speak aloud. Hermione was biting her lip.

"If I may, Harry-?" Kiara said.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Can you tell us who is plotting these terrible things?" She asked Dobby.

He shook his head.

"At least someone who is involved, aside from the...aim person, and Riddle?" She insisted.

Dobby hesitated. "Dobby does not know – there is someone at Hogwarts, Miss, but Dobby does not know who. It is a girl."

"A girl?" Harry asked, surprised. He would have expected one of the teachers, not a student.

Dobby bobbed his head several times.

"And about this plot," Kiara continued, "can you tell us any more? It's a danger to Harry, right?"

A nod.

"Is it a danger to anyone else as well?"

Another nod.

"To all of us."

A vigorous, almost spiteful shake.

"Is it only to boys? Only to Gryffindors? Is one of the Houses safe?"

Shakes to all of these questions.

Then Hermione spoke, very quietly: "Are the purebloods safe?"

And Dobby nodded.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence all around.

"Um, thanks for the warning," Harry said at length, when no one else seemed able to speak. "If that's all…?"

Dobby nodded, and Sibby took his arm again and disappeared. The moment the elves were gone, Harry turned to Draco. "Any clue what that was about?"

"None," Draco replied, striving for a light tone and not quite succeeding. "I guess Father found out about something and Dobby was there while he did. I don't know why he didn't tell me, but probably didn't want to worry me. I'll ask him about it."

Harry nodded. "That'd be great," he said. Privately, he thought that he would certainly tell Alduin as well. He didn't quite trust Lucius Malfoy, and certainly not with something like this.

"We should let the Ministry know," Susan said firmly. "If there's a plot about to happen..."

Fred laughed, though it sounded just a little forced. "It was probably just some crazy House-Elf," he said. "No need to take it all seriously. Normally I'd say it was a prank by their master, but if it's so, Malfoy here is a better actor then I thought."

Draco was just taking a breath for a reply when Daphne interrupted him. "Yeah," she said, "no way he could pull that off."

The situation descended into an argument about acting abilities and the likelihood of pranks soon after, but Harry's mind was not quite calm, and he could see in the face of some of his friends that neither were theirs.

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Harry talked to Alduin about Dobby's warning the very evening. Alduin advised him to reserve judgement and see what Draco came back with the next day. It was possible that it was just a case of a house-elf gone mad. However, Harry could see that Alduin was worried too. The answer to Hermione's question gave the whole thing seriousness it would not otherwise have.

Draco came over with his mother the following day, and while Mrs. Malfoy chatted with Alexandra, he went outside with Harry. "So, I asked Dad," he said as soon as they were clear of the house. "He says, as I thought, that Dobby got it absurdly wrong and that you're completely safe, as well as me and all of our friends. Dobby got clothes, too, as soon as Father heard."

Harry frowned. "Dobby got clothes? I feel kinda sorry for him...I mean, he was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, he should have gone to my father and asked about it first, shouldn't he? It'd have cleared up the matter and there'd have been no need to bother you. I'm not surprised Father gave him clothes. Honestly, he's been dissatisfied before – I mean, Dobby's been his personal elf for only about a year, since his old one died. Father tried to have patience and understand it takes a while for him to train to be as good as the old one, but this was the last straw."

Harry nodded. It did make sense, from one point of view, but he couldn't help to be suspicious and it cost him some effort to talk with Draco in a friendly manner for those twenty minutes that his mother stayed.

As soon as they were gone, Harry went to see Alduin again, to relate what Draco had said. Alduin was frowning, and his frown gradually deepened. "Do you notice anything strange about what Mr. Malfoy said, Harry?" He asked then.

Harry thought about it. "Not really. I mean, I don't trust him, but..."

"Well, he never said there was no plot, or that he didn't know about any. He only said that Draco and you and your friends will be perfectly safe. That makes alarm bells go off in my head."

"But, I mean, why wouldn't he simply lie?"

"Draco is his son. If you come to Hogwarts and the danger or plot or whatever it is becomes apparent, Draco could see immediately that his father lied to him. Lucius doesn't want that. He could have, of course, told Draco to lie to you, but I think he wanted to avoid that as well. Plausible deniability might play a part here."

"Plausible...what?"

"It means that if it came down to it, Draco could say, perfectly honestly, that he didn't know about anything, and he'd stay out of the loop. He's Lucius' only heir. He needs protection. But I don't like it at all. Dobby believes only the purebloods are safe. I think that you not being in any danger is true enough in the sense that Lucius believes so, but that could mean whatever it is would only affect the Muggle-Born. Dobby would be either misinformed, or know something about whatever it is that Lucius does not. In any case, I am almost certain something is going on here."

Harry let Alduin think for a moment, then asked: "Couldn't we employ Dobby? I feel really bad about him being given clothes because he tried to help me..."

Alduin gave him a strange look. "Harry," he said, "I can't just tell the elves to take in a stranger."

"Er...you can't?"

"No. It would be like ordering someone to accept a random person into their home. I can ask them if they'd be willing, of course, but I have some doubts. Regardless of his motives, Dobby violated some of the basic laws of house-elf service. They're unlikely to want him here. But I will try."

"But if you can't just hire new house-elves...how does it work? If you need more, I mean?" Harry asked, distracted for a moment from the problem at hand.

Alduin seemed surprised by the question. "That's my housekeeper's and butler's job," he said. "To make sure there are always enough elves. If I'm dissatisfied with their service or if Tobby comes to tell me one of them no longer wishes to serve me, I can give them clothes, but I certainly don't hire new elves personally, nor does Alexandra. Usually, a house-elf clan has a few members without assigned jobs living around the house, to make sure there is always someone available when a new necessity appears. That was how Alexandra could give an elf to the Weasleys."

"So you don't even know all the elves you have here?"

"No. I know the ones I come in touch with, as with people. There's no need for me to concern myself in their affairs."

"But they clean up after you!"

Alduin shrugged. "Yes, and I provide them with a roof over their heads and food and a family and a clan. It's mutually advantageous. Do you think directors of big companies in the Muggle world know all of their employees?"

"No, but...how many elves do you have?"

"As far as I know, there are about ten living in the Manor now."

"Then it's not like a big company at all!" Harrs insisted.

"No, but...look, Harry, when witches and wizards enter their quarters, it makes them uncomfortable, it disturbs their flow of life. I could of course demand that each of them presents themselves before me here, but that'd probably make them even more uncomfortable. The ones I don't know are usually very young."

"But don't they mind? That you don't know them, I mean."

"I don't expect so. It's just not usually done."

Harry frowned. It seemed strange to him, not knowing who actually lived in the Manor with them, but if this was how it was done, well, then… "I just hope they accept Dobby," he said.

"If they don't, I can always send him to the Shacklebolts. Their elves tend to be more liberal."

"What do you mean?"

Alduin considered how to phrase it for a moment. "It's connected to the Shacklebolt tradition of fighting against slavery. Every elf, on reaching adulthood, is asked whether he wishes to work for the family or whether he wishes to be set free or transfer elsewhere. Then they keep getting the same option every few years. Even though not one of them has asked for it for hundreds of years to my knowledge, it creates a different atmosphere, of sorts."

"Why don't you do it as well, then?"

"Because it would mortally offend our elves. It has a long-standing tradition in the Shacklebolt clan, but that doesn't mean ours would welcome it."

Harry sighed. "It's much more complicated than I'd thought."

Alduin smiled. "Most things turn out to be."

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It was one of Alduin's regular meetings with Abdullah, which now took place every two or three days in the evening or in the afternoons, depending on when they both had time. Usually, Abdullah came determinedly cheerful to the point that it was irritating, and it took Alduin some effort to get him to act mostly normal.

This time, however, he was obviously irritated.

"I am maliciously pleased," Alduin said as he welcomed him, "to see that something's bothering you, too, for a change. Spill."

"We're not here for me," Abdullah protested, predictably.

"Abdullah, so help me Merlin, if you don't stop this, I really will stop speaking to you. If this is supposed to help, I need to at least be able to convinced myself it's just a friendly chat with a fried, okay?"

"Fine, fine. It's Grandfather."

Alduin raised his eyebrows. One of the irritating things about the Shafiqs was that they always seemed to get on famously with each other, no internal conflicts anywhere, so he was surprised to hear this to say the least. "What happened?" He asked.

"I tried to convince him to get rid of alcohol in our house. He refuses."

Alduin straightened in his chair. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. Look, we all know it's effectively poison. The whole family agrees on that, none of us except Mother even drinks it. So it seems only reasonable, and I'm sure the guests would survive being served tea or coffee instead."

"Your prestige would suffer, as you know perfectly well."

"Prestige isn't everything."

"Your grandmother must be rolling in her grave. But anyway, don't be stupid. I might be an idiot who drinks to excess-" Alduin began, and at Abdullah's look, promptly corrected himself: "Drank, in the past, I mean – but that doesn't mean a glass of port at your house does your guests any harm."

"Not to most of them," Abdullah admitted, "but what if there are more cases like you? I read up on this, any alcohol at all can trigger a relapse-"

"Abdullah," Alduin said firmly, "stop right there. I appreciate your help. But you know that the good hangover potions also block most aspects of physical addiction, and that I have been taking them. So far, I have managed to get though the ritual of port drinking without getting home and getting wasted immediately afterwards. If someone else has more trouble with that, someone who hasn¨t bothered taking their potions, they can teach themselves the dealcoholising spell. There's no need to hurt your family for this."

Abdullah stayed silent for a moment, staring off into the middle distance. At length, he spoke. "I just...for years, I've been telling myself that it was no big deal that we offered alcohol to our guests, but now...I feel so guilty about offering you that whiskey when you came to talk to me about the prophecy and all the rest of it."

"Don't," Alduin said, trying to keep his tone light. "I said guilt was my provenance, didn't I? You clearly don't know how to do it properly. I was drinking heavily every night at that point. I assure you, those three glasses I had at your house made no difference at all. But fine, if it'll make you feel better, don't offer whiskey to your personal guests anymore. But don't push your grandfather. Talk to Mercurius if you don't believe me, but really, that little bit of port does no harm."

Abdullah didn't look too convinced. Alduin very much hoped he wasn't going to be stubborn about this. For one, he really didn't want for his friend to argue with his family...and for another, the last thing he needed was for people to wonder where did this sudden desire to get rid of alcohol even come from.

"Come on," he said, purposefully changing the topic, "let's talk about Lucius possibly wanting to kill all the Muggle-born of Hogwarts instead."

Predictably, that got Abdullah's attention.


	56. International Quidditch Tournament

Alduin felt just about ready to scream.

Why, he asked once again, can't things happen one at a time?

He'd been getting better ever since Abdullah started helping him in earnest, but the news that Lucius was planning something at Hogwarts this year put him back on the verge of a nervous collapse, and it cost him almost inhuman amounts of effort not to return to drink and limit himself to one or two glasses of port when he found the situation really unbearable.

And it had something to do with Riddle? Was the man crazy?

Alduin was quite confident that Lucius had no interest at all in his Dark Lord returning. So why, why would he plot something to do with him? Was he being pressured? If so, by whom? Had Riddle found another victim to possess, and was he in touch with Lucius? But if that was the case, Harry would hardly be safe, and despite everything, Alduin still thought that part was true. So what was going on?

And of course, because life just couldn't give him things by doses, it was also time for the formal dinner to which the Princes were invited. It needed to be done, it was high time for it, in fact, but that didn't mean Alduin was any happier about it.

He did his best not to let his eyes wander to Eliza as soon as she entered, but it seemed they had a will of their own. Well, he thought, best to cut to the chase. Sometimes the Gryffindor approach had its merits.

He welcomed them all and spoke a few words to each of them, but as soon as politely acceptable, he stepped to the side with her.

"How are you?" He asked, doing his best to sound casual, and, to his astonishment, even succeeding to a degree.

"Well enough," she replied in that quiet, measured voice of hers. "Busy. We've started Augustus' schooling this year, and sometimes it's a little hard."

Alduin smiled. "Don't tell me," he said, "I had moments of despair with Harry, and he was ten."

"Well, but then I suppose he's much livelier than Augustus. He's a calm child, really, but...I don't know. Perhaps I'm asking too much of him. Aurelius," her breath caught on the name, "certainly seems to think so."

"And your mother-in-law?"

"Her, too, yes. And my sisters-in-law as well." She gave a small laugh. "Jonathan, on the other hand, thinks I should push him harder.

Alduin's face darkened.

"I'm sorry about what my brother did," she said, even more quietly.

"It's all right – I know you had nothing to do with it."

"Yes, but still. It was inconsiderate of him to...make you face me unexpectedly."

Alduin shook his head. "That's not the point – or not the main one, anyway. It was a week before the wedding. What do you think it was like for Alexandra? What impression did it give?"

She paled. "You're right," she said. "I was so caught in how it made me feel, and how you must have felt, that I never even thought of her." She closed her eyes. "That sounds truly terrible of me."

Alduin tried to be reassuring. "Don't worry about it _too_ much – Alexandra can take a lot."

"Unlike me, you mean?"

"Eliza, don't," Alduin said, and his voice grew harder.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "You're right, of course, if something, you're the injured party here."

"I'm not an injured party," he replied, frustrated. "You had no way of knowing I'd ever wake up again. It was simply a tragedy all around, but it's in the past and...could we please regard it that way?"

She gave him a penetrating look. He knew this sort of look from her intimately – it always made him feel like she could read his very soul. "Can you?" She asked.

"That's why you're here," he replied. "Yes, of course, I wasn't able to two years ago. No time at all had passed from my point of view, let me remind you. But it's different now, and...I want us to be able to talk civilly to each other."

She gave a sad sigh. "I'll do my best."

He only nodded to her, and left. He felt Aurelius' eyes on him for quite some time after that, and decided that a talk with that man would be in order as well. But not tonight. There was only so much he could handle in one evening.

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They were sitting at the breakfast table one morning in mid-August when Alduin brought up another of his concerns. "You've been doing good in your training, improving, even," he said to Harry, "but I'm worried about the time during the school year. We don't want you to lose all the progress. So I was thinking...what would you say if I arranged for you to train with Maurice Shacklebolt? Let's say once a week, just to keep your hand in."

Harry looked up from where he was making faces at Wynn and trying to entice him to sit, and shrugged. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea, but he could see Alduin's point. Still… "I don't really know Maurice," he said.

"Neither do I, to be honest, but he's a Shacklebolt, so he's bound to be decent at duelling – neither Nathan nor Kingsley would have it any other way – and I assume he's trustworthy. Whoever Dumbledore hires to teach Defence this year, I doubt they will be so, otherwise I'd ask them."

Harry snorted. Yes, he certainly preferred to have classes with Maurice Shacklebolt than with another Quirrell.

At that point, the conversation was interrupted by the post appearing at the end of the table, with Harry's Hogwarts letter on top. Harry took it and opened it curiously to see what new books he'd be required to buy, and stared. "Who is Gilderoy Lockhart?" He asked.

"A celebrity," Alduin replied from his own correspondence. "Why?"

"Because we have like seven books from him on the list," Harry said, still staring.

"What?" Alduin put down his letters and reached for Harry's, and Alexandra was now focused on them as well.

"Seven books from Lockhart?" She asked, shocked. "Why would anyone do that? Why would Dumbledore allow that?"

"Maybe he has a contract with Lockhart to boost his sales," Alduin muttered, staring at the list in his turn. "This is absurd. The books have very little educational value, at least those I have read."

"Absurd or not, we'll have to get them," Alexandra said, though she as well sounded dissatisfied.

"But why are we supposed to buy books by a celebrity?" Harry asked.

"Lockhart made his name by performing feats of heroism and then writing about it," she explained. "Though many people think he doesn't really care about the people he helps as much as the image and the aura it grants him. Nevertheless, I suppose he is skilled enough, insufferable as he might be. But to use his books as teaching material..."

They discussed the matter for a while longer, but then gathered their things and headed to Diagon Alley to meet with the other Gryffindors. It had been a standing agreement since the day they left Hogwarts that they would meet the very day the letters came.

Once in Flourish and Blotts and looking at the books, however, Harry was horrified once again when he saw Dean and Sophie both check the price tags and exchange worried looks. "They're so expensive!" He whispered to Alduin, stepping aside with him. "How will everyone be able to afford them?"

Alduin pursed his lips. "Just one more thing to ask Dumbledore about," he said.

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The day of the International Quidditch Tournament final finally came, and Harry and Alduin got ready to depart. Alexandra was staying at home with Wynn, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion she was more relieved than sorry. Even Alduin didn't look quite excited enough.

It was to be played in Germany, so Alduin side-Apparated Harry to Diagon Alley to take an international Portkey from there. Harry was looking around the Portkey office curiously. He'd never travelled this way before, and while Alduin had, of course, described the principle to him, he was still curious and a little nervous.

Soon after they arrived, the Malfoys appeared as well, or rather, Mr. Malfoy and Draco. They greeted each other and Alduin said with a smile: "So, I take it Narcissa, like Alexandra, opted to stay at home?"

Mr. Malfoy nodded. "I'm afraid she has no appreciation for the noble sport," he said. "I think she might actually be visiting with Alexandra instead. Draco told me the Shacklebolts are coming as well?"

"Oh, yes – all of them, as far as I know."

And sure enough, almost that very moment, all five members of the family entered the office, greeting everyone – and with them, Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, with his parents.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Malfoy said with a smile. "Christopher and Marianne and the girls aren't coming?"

If Harry remembered correctly, those were Millicent's parents. "No," Marcus' mother replied. "They're going to the match, but they remembered too late and couldn't get places on this portkey, so they travelled there yesterday already."

"Ah well, we do have a new Quiddtich enthusiast among us this year, so perhaps that's why," Mr. Malfoy said with a benevolent smile towards Harry. It made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Who are you supporting?" Harry asked Draco and Kiara, as Marcus and Maurice took themselves aside to talk.

"The French, of course," Draco replied. "I mean, it's where we come from, originally."

Harry grinned. "That's exactly what Alduin said."

"Well, Dad said we should support the Polish." Kiara grinned as well. "Uncle Kingsley added it was because we weren't as stuck up as the rest of you, so the French didn't suit us."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Your uncle wouldn't recognize class if it smacked him in the face," he said.

"I beg to differ! He's super classy. The Goblins had Wronski, after all."

"Whatever. Do you know who'll the Flints root for?"

"Well I think Dad convinced Mum and Mum convinced Uncle Jeremy, but I don't know about Aunt Beatrice or Marcus."

"It's good to be split in the family," Harry said with a laugh, "at least, either way, someone is happy."

"Or you can have a huge argument about it," Kiara said cynically. "Mum and Maurice already had one before we went here, because Maurice was upset they didn't get the tickets for his girlfriend as well, and Mum said he can only expect that sort of automatic inclusion once he's engaged to her, and he asked whether he should go and propose right now...it was a disaster."

"Come on," Mrs. Shacklebolt called in that moment. "The Portkey will activate son, we have to get ready."

The Portkey turned out to be a long wooden stick. They all took a hold of it, and after waiting for a moment and feeling exceedingly stupid, Harry felt a pull behind his navel and suddenly he was surrounded by a whirlwind of colour. He felt Alduin behind him and Kiara in the front, and when his head was staring to spin from it all, he finally felt solid ground beneath his feet and, moments later, he was on the ground.

Alduin had warned him about the landing, but it still caught him by surprise. Kiara was laughing at him, and Mr. Malfoy said in his superior tone: "I suppose that happens when one travels for the first time," and exchanged a strange look with Marcus' mother.

Harry got up and followed the others. They were on a meadow, and when he looked around, he could see a sea of tents everywhere. "Tea?" Alduin asked the others, and as there were nods all around, he headed towards the largest and tallest of the tents not too far away.

It was still a little early for tea by Harry's count, only about four, but he supposed that, as the match started at six, it would be too late to head to the tearoom at five.

The tent proved to be much bigger on the inside, and to contain a café and a restaurant both. It took the staff a while to arrange a table big enough for all of them to sit, but once they did, their got their tea and scones in almost no time.

Harry was talking with Draco and Kiara again when Draco was pulled aside by Marcus and Mr. Malfoy, and they discussed something very secretly to the side. Harry frowned at them. After Dobby's warning, he distrusted anything secret Mr. Malfoy did.

"Do you know if Dobby found a place among your elves?" He asked Kiara. The Travers elves had, indeed, refused to work with him, but had at least deigned to find him and extend the Shacklebolt offer.

"Oh yeah," Kiara said with a grin. "It was quite the talk of the house. Because, you see, he asked if he could get paid. From what I know, our butler wanted to send him away straight out when he heard this, but the housekeeper convinced him to ask Dad first, and of course Dad agreed, and in fact from what he said, gave the butler quite a talking to for wanting to send Dobby away. So yeah, Dad employed him."

Harry was frowning. "What do you mean, wanted to get paid? Don't house-elves normally get paid?"

"Not exactly," Kiara replied. "I mean they get food and the uniforms and a comfortable place to live, but they don't normally get money, no."

"That...sounds like it kinda sucks."

Kiara shrugged. "I don't think you can look at it as if they were witches and wizards. I mean, they see things differently, you know?"

"Well, Dobby didn't."

Kiara looked around and lowered her voice. "Yeah, well, Dobby served the Malfoys," she whispered. "I've heard they have a pretty bad reputation. Them and the Blacks – actually, the Blacks, I think, have been accused of mistreatment by the Ministry, and I mean, you are normally allowed to do pretty much anything to your house-elves without the Ministry caring, so..."

How did no one realize that Sirius Black, coming from that family, couldn't possibly be normal, Harry wondered.

Draco returned to them, and was absolutely beaming.

"What is it?" Harry asked him curiously.

"I can't tell you," Draco replied, "it's a secret, but it's awesome."

Harry's worry grew. He'd have to talk to Alduin again, once they got home.

Milicent with her sister and parents joined them at this point, making their gathering even bigger, and Harry tried to put his mind at ease for now to be able to enjoy the evening.

The match was incredibly impressive. They had very good seats, close to the top of the stadium, and Alduin bought omniculars for both of them, allowing them to watch the action closely. The French team, Quiberon Quafflepunchers, was playing in a rather incredible manner. It didn't seem very practical to Harry, but they did score a lot, and were, in fact, tied with Grodzisk Goblins when the Polish Seeker scored a Snitch.

"And it seems Wronski got himself a very decent substitute at last, ladies and gentlemen," the commentator roared, "because Mariusz Broz gives his team the first IQT victory in years! Show him your appreciation, please!"

Kiara was shouting and cheering in her seat next to him, and half the stadium with her. Then it turned into a chant, but it was in Polish and Harry didn't understand it. "I hope you're happy," Alduin said to Mr. Shacklebolt with a laugh.

"If only because most you are disappointed," the man replied with a returning smile, and his wife poked him in the ribs.

As they were leaving their seats, however, they were suddenly blinded by flashes of light, and Harry panicked for a moment before he realized it was cameras, and behind them, there were reporters, saying: "Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, give us your commentary, please! Who did you support? How did you like the match? Are you looking forward to returning to Hogwarts?"

Alduin stepped in front of him immediately. "You got your pictures," he said in a hard voice, "now let us pass. If you wish, you can arrange an interview with me, and I'll answer any questions about Harry you might have. I made my stance on this clear enough."

"Why won't you let Mr. Potter speak to us? What are you hiding?"

Mr. Shacklebolt laughed incredulously, and Mr. Kingsley stepped forwards. "Even though we're in Germany," he said, "you're still British subjects, so allow me to inform you that what you're doing right now is harassing a minor. Care to stop?"

The journalists dispersed rather quickly after that, and Harry let out a breath of relief.

Kiara shook her head. "Wow," she said. "They usually stop us to try and talk to us as we leave, but they've never been so aggressive before. They must really want to talk to you, Harry."

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The next morning, Alduin checked the Prophet a little apprehensively, but it was tolerable. The headline simply said 'Harry Potter spotted at the IQT finals, surrounded by British wizarding elite', and the picture underneath showed Harry, Kiara, Alduin and Draco all together. Lucius should be happy with that, Alduin thought – certainly more happy than he was with Lucius at the moment.

He hadn't been able to discover any kind of sinister plot. Alexandra, after spending a good portion of yesterday with Narcissa, was confident enough that her cousin didn't know anything about it. Not that that was very surprising – if there was even the slightest chance that whatever was to happen at Hogwarts would endanger Draco, there was no way she'd ever agree to it.

What Alduin _had_ uncovered, however, by asking Susan Shacklebolt about Lucius' secret discussions with her brother and nephew, was a plan to buy a set of new brooms for the Slytherin Quidditch team if Draco was accepted as Seeker. It made him roll his eyes extremely hard. Was Lucius actually stupid? What better way to make everyone think that Draco had to buy his spot on the team, regardless of whether it was true or not? Did he trust his son so little? After all, it wasn't like Slytherin had a great Seeker. Harry managed to beat him last year even as his broom was being jinxed.

But Alduin didn't waste his time by trying to change Lucius's mind – he knew the man too well for that. There was only one way to counter this, and what was making him hesitate were his split loyalties.

After a moment of consideration, he called on the Davies and the Shacklebolts and, much more reluctantly, on the McMillans as well, and a plan was agreed on. After all, Alduin thought, remembering some of the things Harry wrote about last year, it was rather overdue.

As for the other matter, Harry told him that the Shacklebolts had employed Lucius' old personal elf, so he rather thought that perhaps some information could be got out of there. In any case, it the only lead he had.


	57. Gilderoy Lockhart

AN: So, with this chapter the rush to make up for my absence is done, and from now on it should be a chapter every fortnight again. I hope. For a while at last. You know how it is...

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Alexandra bid Harry goodbye in the entrance hall of Travers Manor once again, Wynn on her arm. Harry took the baby from her for a moment for a last cuddling, tickling him to tease out a laugh. „I'll see you at Christmas," he muttered. „By then, you'll be a big boy already, won't you? I bet you'll be able to sit. Maybe even walk, hm?" Harry added, tickling Wynn again.

Alexandra laughed. „Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she said. „Perhaps stand?" She took Wynn back and gave Harry a formal peck on the cheek, and then Alduin took his arm and they Apparated to the station. Harry placed himself in what was, by now, his usual compartment, and returned to the platform. "Be very careful this year," Alduin said to him, in a low voice. "And write to me about anything that seems at all strange to you, however insignificant it might seem. Anything can be a clue."

"And you'll let me know if you discover something?" Harry asked a little anxiously.

"Of course." Alduin paused. "But I don't want to see aht you used this new crisis as an excuse not to study. The workload in your second year will be a little harder..."

Harry grimaced as the conversation proceeded to more conventional warnings and advice. Alduin was just telling him to be diligent about his training with Maurice when they were interrupted by the arrival of Hermione with her parents. "Oh, hello, Harry," she cried as she spotted him. "How was your end of summer? Oh, of course, sorry – mum, dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, let my indtroduce are my parents."

Harry shook their hands, and Alduin, who'd already seen then when he went to pick Hermione up for his birthday party, nodded politely to them.

"Are you sitting with Harry?" Her father asked her.

Hermione shook her head. "Oh no, his compartment is full with all the Gryffindor first years – well, second years now, I suppose," she explained. "I'll sit with the Ravenclaw girls, but maybe we could get the one next to Harry?"

The boy considered it. "Well, that's normally where the Slytherins sit," he said, "but you can definitely take the one next to that – the Puffs had it last year, and none of us really talk to them that much, so..."

Hermione was agreeable to the idea, and Alduin offered to levitate her trunk there. Just after he returned, Neville and his Gran appeared, and there was soon a lively conversation between the boys, interrupted by greeting more newcomers. Then Alduin announced it was only five minutes until departure and they all piled in and pressed their faces to the window to catch the last glimpses of their families as the train gained speed and left the platform.

When they all set down, a conversation when each tried to tell as much about their summer without being interrupted started. Harry, Neville and Ron had many shared stories, of course, and it turned out Lavender and Parvati spent quite a bit of summer together as well. Harry was questioned about the IQT, and about making an appearance in the papers once again.

It was when the darkness was just beginning to fall when the train made a strange noise, and suddenly stopped.

Harry got up from his seat to look out of the window, where he had to squeeze in between Sophie and Ron, who'd got there first. But there was nothing special to be seen.

"This has never happened before, has it?" Harry asked.

"Not last year," Neville replied, "but well, we don't really know about the others, do we?"

The door to their compartment opened, and Draco stuck his head in. "Anyone knows what's going on?" He asked.

"No idea," Harry replied and went with him to the corridor. Doors to the other compartments were being opened as well, and Hermione was already outside. She opened the door to another compartment and asked something Harry couldn't hear. "Why doesn't anyone explain anything?" Draco asked, frustrated.

Daphne, who got out of the Slytherin compartment as well, rolled her eyes. "We just stopped for a while," she said.

Hermione was returning to her friends, and seeing Harry, she headed to him first. "Horatio says this has never happened before in the last three year. It's really strange, I think I'll go get a prefect."

Before she could do that, however, Percy Weasley appeared on his own. "Everybody stay calm," he said, which only served to make Harry feel more nervous. "I'm sure it's just a momentary problem."

"You're sure?" Draco sneered. "Meaning you don't know, right?"

Harry and Daphne rolled their eyes at him in unison. Before Percy could answer, a voice sounded on the train: "We ask all students to stay in their compartments while we work on the problem. We apologise for any inconvenience caused."

"There, you see?" Percy said, rather defensively.

"They didn't really tell us anything," Draco complained.

"Oh, stop whining, Malfoy," Sophie, who emerged from their compartment, muttered. Draco looked completely affronted, but Daphne sniggered.

Hermione disappeared back to her Ravenclaw friends, and the rest stood in the corridor for a while, discussing the unexpected situation. When it was beginning to take too long, however, Harry went to sit back down and stared out of the window, wondering.

After about three-quarters of an hour, the same voice sounded again, stating: "We have been unable to determine the cause of the problem. Please wait in your compartments while alternate transport is being arranged. We apologize for any inconvenience caused."

Everyone started to talk at once and doors started to bang in the corridor, but Harry immediately took out his two-way mirror and called Alduin's name. "Yes, Harry?" Alduin said, appearing soon enough.

"There's a problem with the train," Harry said. "It stopped and we don't know why, and they said they'll have to give us alternate transport."

Alduin frowned. "I don't like this, I don't like this one bit. Where are you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, do I? Somewhere...there are a lot of hills around, and forests."

"That doesn't really help, Harry." Alduin paused. "Can you get Ernie McMillan?"

"Sure, but...why?"

"Because his family lives not too far away from Hogwarts, so I'm hoping he might have more of an idea than you do."

Harry dutifully went in search of the boy. "Yes," he replied, surprised, to Harry's question. "We've gone through Pitlochry already, and that's the last major town the train goes through before we get to school. Ben Macdui si somewhere in front of us, I think."

"All right," Alduin replied. "I'm going there, and then I'll call again."

His face disappeared from the mirror and Harry returned to his compartment, nervously glancing back at it. How was Alduin going to find them? He didn't have long to wait. "All right, Harry," Alduin said, "now can you take Hedwig and send a message to me?"

Thrilled by this brilliant idea, Harry did so. Draco appeared in their compartment again. "I'm calling Father," he declared, "this is ridiculous."

Harry nodded. "I've already called Alduin," he said. "He's coming."

Draco frowned. "But how will he find us?"

Harry explained the process, and Draco went to repeat it with his father. Harry wasn't worried – if this was part of the plot by Mr. Malfoy, he was hardly going to get involved personally in front of so many witnesses.

"I see Hedwig," Alduin said from the mirror. "You must not be too far."

And, indeed, within fifteen minutes, Alduin was knocking on their compartment window. Harry ran out to let him in, and Alduin nodded in greeting to everyone present. "I Flooed Dumbledore before I Apparated here," he said. "He'll send the teachers for you to side-Apparate you, as soon as he locates you. I promised to help."

"I called Father," Draco said from behind him. "So he can take me and Daphne or something."

Mr. Malfoy did, indeed, arrive, almost at the same time as the Hogwarts teachers, and the students were being transported to Hogwarts gates, the oldest ones going themselves. Alduin bid Harry goodbye once again after it was all done and disappeared, and after Hagrid took the first years to the lake, the rest of them headed up to the castle on foot, discussing the cause of the problem all the way. Harry was deeply uncomfortable. It was not a good sign, in his opinion, that trouble was starting this early.

The problem with the train was the talk of the evening. Not even Percy remembered anything like that, with his six years' experience, and Alduin didn't look like this sort of problem was familiar to him either. "But, I mean," Neville said, "what would be the point? Why would Riddle – or anyone working for him – just stop the train without doing anything to it?"

"Maybe he planned something, but we got away soon enough?" Ron suggested.

"Or maybe he did something," Parvati considered. "I mean, if he just wanted to steal something...he could have done that. Or...are we even sure all students are accounted for?"

That idea disturbed Harry a good deal, but before he could say something, they were interrupted by the new first years entering the Hall.

Harry was shocked. There were twenty students in that group at most, and they looked tiny and insignificant in the big room. He remembered that Alduin told him something about the lull in the war that happened in '79 only being a preclude to it getting worse. Was that, he wondered, why there were so few students? Because the war was so bad, literally no one who knew about it wanted to have children? He supposed there would be a bigger share og Muggle-Borns in that class.

He watched them getting Sorted. The first boy to come to Gryffindor was a small one with a huge grin that seemed about to split his face open. He was just about bouncing on his way to sit down, and immediately started chatting to the nearest person. He was too far away to speak to, so Harry returned his attention to the Sorting. One girl there caught his attention. While most first years looked nervous, like he himself had been, she just stood there and looked at the ceiling, seemingly completely unaware of the thousand people before her.

Another boy was Sorted into Gryffindor and sat down next to the first one, and still this girl stood. Her name – Lovegood, Luna – had to be called twice before she reacted.

She was sent to Ravenclaw, and Harry saw that she was getting strange looks from her own house, too, even as they clapped for her. She looked a little like the people on the telly who were on drugs.

Now that about half of the first years was gone, Harry concentrated on Ginny Weasley. She looked less nervous than most others, and Harry marvelled again at the change that happened to her in one year. "Your sister used to be so shy and quiet," he whispered to Ron, "and look at her now!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Shy and quiet when she visited your Manor, maybe," he said. "She's never been shy and quiet at home. I guess she just got used to the splendour and all."

Harry counted it a win that there was a little less bitterness in Ron's voice than there would have been a year ago. -ginny wasn't the only sibling making progress.

She was sent to Gryffindor without the Hat as much as touching her head, and she grinned brightly and walked right to where Harry and Ron were sitting. "Move over," she said to her brother.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with your classmates?" He muttered even as he did so.

"Yeah, I met them on the train, and...no. Colin – the first one who was sorted – is insufferable. Mike, the other one, is okay I guess, but, well. He's sitting next to Colin."

"You'll be the only girl in your year, won't you?" Harry pointed out.

"Looks like it," she agreed. "You'll just had to contend with my company."

Ron grimaced, and Ginny smacked him.

"Well," Harry said, "you know everyone – you've been to my birthday party – so you should be fine."

Ginny nodded, and turned to talk to Sophie as if to prove her point. Harry concentrated mostly on stuffing himself as he listened to Fred and George retell some of their summer shenanigans, an endeavour in which he did not pause until Dumbledore's speech. Then, however, he was astonished to hear Gilderoy Lockhart himself introduced as their Defense teacher. "That explains the books," Ron sniggered, but to Harry's mind, it made them even more mysterious. What kind of person would make students buy so many of their books?

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In light of the problem with the train, Alduin decided not to hesitate and called on the Shacklebolts the very next day, to talk to Dobby.

The elf was a nervous wreck and had to be prevented from punishing himself several times, making Alduin truly wonder what the Malfoys did to their elves, because this certainly wasn't normal. In the end, however, after some most strenuous work, they got to the important part.

"There is a diary, Mr. Travers, sir," Dobby said. "A diary from...from the man He Who Must Not Be Named was before he became the Dark Lord."

"Riddle's diary?" Alduin asked, worried. "Do you know what is inside?"

Dobby slowly nodded. "Terrible things," he said. "Instructions to unleash a monster on the school."

Alduin frowned. "But why would anyone do that?"

"He said...he said the diary can be very persuasive, and that everyone will obey, in the end."

"He said? Who?"

Dobby showed a certain tendency to punish himself again, so Alduin caught him and asked: "Lucius?"

The elf slowly nodded. Alduin thought about it for a moment. What kind of monster could be unleashed on the school that Riddle would know about? A monster that Lucius believed Draco would be safe from? Of course. "This isn't about the Chamber of Secrets by any chance, is it?"

Dobby nodded once more.

Alduin gave a long exhale. "Well, at least we'd know the historical truth about it," he muttered, then shook himself. "Thank you, Dobby. You have helped me a lot. Is there anything else you want to add?"

"Harry Potter must come back home, sir! He cannot stay at Hogwarts!"

"I promise I'll pull him out as soon as I see any signs that the Chamber has been actually opened." Alduin frowned again. "But you're a Shacklebolt elf now," he added. "You should care at least about Maurice and Kiara as well, you know."

That, of course, meant he had to stop Dobby from punishing himself again. The Shacklebolt elves, he thought, were going to have a hell of a job retraining this one.

He returned home without delay to contemplate the matter, fighting the need to have at least one drink for clarity of thought, and also for calm.

He was furious once again. He had been willing to give Lucius the benefit of the doubt. He knew, of course, that the man used every opportunity to further his own ends and that he didn't shy away from killing in order to do that, as long as he thought he could get away with it...But Alduin had wanted to believe that all the worst atrocities, the torture and the random senseless killings, were only done because Riddle ordered it, and Lucius was not brave enough to refuse. But here, the man had been willing to pursue a course of action that could only be risky to him, purely in order to kill Muggle-Born students. Getting the diary from Riddle, he must have heard his version of the Chamber's purpose from him as well.

Dark magic twisted the soul and warped the mind, he knew. Was that the excuse here, such as it was? Or had Lucius always been a monster, not just without a conscience, as Alduin had known for a long time, but actively malicious? The boy he remembered, the one that took his side when James teased him at garden parties and that was always willing to listen to his complaints about his cousin...

When he told Alexandra, she looked briefly shocked, then thoughtful, and then she said: "Well, at least you finally have the leverage over him you've been waiting for for some time."

"Yes, of course. As soon as I have proof, that is."

Something must have shown in his face, because she rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, of course, it's terrible and horrifying and he's a monster. That goes without saying. But apart from that, he's also been extremely careless and now you have the advantage."

"Not truly careless," Alduin replied after a moment, following her lead and trying to think about the matter rationally. "He simply trusted his own personal elf wouldn't betray him, something most people count on without any reflection..."

"That just goes to show that some crimes are too monstrous even for house-elf loyalty."

Alduin nodded thoughtfully. "We owe Dobby a lot," he said, "but at the same time, it's making me a little uncomfortable. I just have to hope that none of our elves have any kind of loyalty to Lucius..."

Just the thought made him want to have a drink even more, which meant it was probably time to talk to Abdullah again,


	58. The Very Secret Diary

Discounting the unpleasant encounter with Peeves in the morning, where he tried to stop the Gryffindor second years from getting to breakfast and they had to go the long way around as he shouted rude words after them, Harry had a relatively uneventful, though busy, first day of term. They started to work with mandrakes in Herbology – plants with human-like roots that screamed when one pulled them from the dirt, and so required the use of earmuffs. Neville looked like Christmas had come early. "Mandrakes," he kept saying when they walked back to the castle. "Mandrakes! I thought I wouldn't get to work with them for years! Aren't they amazing?"

The rest of Gryffindors didn't quite share his enthusiasm – the plants were ugly, and everyone was worried their earmuff would slip and they'd end up fainting. Parvati, especially, was very vocal in her dissatisfaction. "And Potions next," she muttered. "Wednesday is not going to be my favourite day."

In truth, they had a lot of Potions classes this year, twice as many as they had the last. Neville, who was still made a little nervous by Professor Snape, got rather glum when he saw the timetable. After lunch, they discovered that Professor Binns got no less boring over the summer, and that Professor McGonnagal was no less strict. Harry was suddenly glad Alduin made him review and study so hard, especially watching most of the others in his class struggle. Parvati was the only other one who seemed prepared properly, but perhaps she was simply enjoying not having to get her hands dirty for once.

Harry also found out there was an article about him starting his second year at Hogwarts on the front page of the Prophet, along with the announcement that Lockhart would be teaching there. Kiara had shown him, amused. Harry could only roll his eyes. Was there really nothing more important to write about?

His classes over, he was resting in the common room and waiting for dinner when he felt Alduin calling him through the mirror. "Yes?" He said, taking it out. "What is it?"

"Are you alone?" Alduin asked, his tone urgent.

Harry frowned. "Not exactly, I'm in the common room..."

"Better go to your dormitory, then, this shouldn't be overheard."

Excited and a little nervous now, Harry quickly climbed the stairs and plopped down on his bed. "Yes?" He said again.

"I spoke to Dobby," Alduin began without preamble. "He says there's Riddle's diary somewhere about at school, a diary that makes people open the Chamber of Secrets."

"The Chamber..." Harry thought for a moment. "But, didn't you say Slytherin put the monster there to protect the school? So it shouldn't be a reason to worry, right?"

Alduin shook his head. "I said that was one theory. I tend to believe it, but I'd personally not bet the life of any students on it. The last time it was opened, when Riddle was at Hogwarts, Myrtle Warren, a Ravenclaw student, died. We don't know it if was an accident, if Riddle turned the monster against her, or what. But I wouldn't tempt it, certainly not if Riddle's diary is in control. So please, if you ever see it..."

"What does it look like?"

"We don't know. Dobby never saw it, he only heard Lucius talk about it."

Harry frowned. "But if Mr. Malfoy knew about it, why didn't he say anything? Is it because he believes the monster is there for protection?"

Alduin seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Undoubtedly, he believes that," he said then. "And remember he doesn't know about Riddle's early history, so he wouldn't know about Myrtle."

Harry nodded. "Should I tell Draco?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't. He himself can probably be trusted, but he could mention it to someone and...what we need to avoid the most is someone who actually wants to open the Chamber getting their hands on the diary. So only tell those you trust absolutely and implicitly – and, as sorry as I am to say it, I'd stick to Gryffindors now. For most Ravenclaws, the temptation of knowledge can be great, and...well."

Harry nodded. "I'll talk it over with Neville," he said, "and we'll decide."

"Good. And look around, will you?"

Harry promised to do just that, and then ran down to get Neville and drag him through the portrait hole for a walk through the castle to share the news.

"So, looking for a diary that we don't know the look of, that may or may not have Riddle's name on it somewhere...that's gonna be hard."

Harry agreed. "Who do we tell?" He asked.

"Sophie and Ron at least," Neville decided, and Harry nodded immediately. "And I don't suppose there's any danger of Dean and Seamus wanting to open the Chamber either."

"No, I guess not...and anyway I think there's a chance Sophie would tell them if we didn't, so..."

This decided, Harry immediately felt lighter. With more people on the lookout, after all, there was a better chance of the diary being found.

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The next day, they had their first Defence lesson with Lockhart, and Harry couldn't quite believe his eyes. First, before the class even started, Lockhart pulled him aside. "My dearest Harry," he said, "I couldn't help but notice that the article about you starting your second year at Hogwarts took up as much space in the Prophet as the one announcing I'd be teaching here. Tell me, is your cousin your manager?"

Harry could only stare. "Um- no, Professor," he said. "He's- well, he's my cousin. I don't have a manager."

"Oh Harry," Lockhart said with a smile so fake he could give Aunt Petunia a run for her money, "pretended naiveté is all well and good, but you don't have to pretend with me. I know the world of fame inside out, you know. Tell me, what strategies does he prefer to employ?"

Harry stared some more. He had no idea what Lockhart was talking about. Fortunately, it was time for the class to start so the teacher let him go, though he was evidently reluctant.

It didn't improve from then on, though. They were given a test from his books, which concentrated entirely on Lockhart's personal tastes and characteristics, and then he let Cornish Pixies loose in the class, clearly without any clue how to stop them. Pandemonium reigned. Two of them tried to grab Neville by the ears, and Harry, Ron and Sophie had to beat them with Lockhart's books to get them to let him be. When the bell rang, everyone made a mad dash for the door, but only Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender managed to get out before Lockhart emerged from under his desk and ordered the rest of them to deal with the pixies who hadn't, so far, managed to escape through the broken window.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of them bit him painfully on the ear.

Harry sighed resignedly. "Do any of you have any clue how to deal with pixies?" He asked as they hid under the desk Lockhart had just vacated.

They all shook their heads, and so Harry took out his multi-way mirror and called Alduin once again.

"Yes, Harry?" Was the almost immediate answer.

"Er, do you know how to deal with rampaging pixies?"

Alduin stared for a moment. "Why in Merlin's name would you need to know that?"

"Well, Lockhart let them loose in class and ran away, telling us to clean up..."

Alduin suddenly looked very tired. "Is Dumbledore doing it on purpose to irritate me, do you think?" He muttered. More loudly, he said: "All right, so first, you don't need to clean up after teachers, whatever they might say. The pixies are Lockhart's problem, not yours. But if you want to, well, I'd try immobilizing them in some way. Do you know the Freezing Charm?"

Harry nodded gratefully, and the others already started firing them as Harry ended the talk. "Well, at least we learned _something_ thanks to this class," Neville said.

"Do you think your cousin would perhaps consider teaching us via the mirror, instead of this loser?" Ron added, and Sophie giggled.

Harry suddenly remembered Alduin even vaguely suggesting that the new Defence teacher would be the one to help him train duelling, and began to laugh. The others gave him uncertain looks.

"I just imagined," he said, wheezing, "what would training with Lockhart look like."

Ron snorted. "Well, if you had to fight pixies, it'd be pretty tough!"

Harry shook his head. The first session with Maurice was arranged for Sunday, and whatever it was, he was quite certain it was going to be better than this.

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On Saturday, Oliver Wood woke Harry up at the crack of dawn for Quidditch practice. Harry dragged himself out of bed very slowly and took a shower, still half-asleep. As he stumbled out of the dormitory and to the staircase, he noticed the small, enthusiastic boy from the Sorting watching him. He'd seen him before, around school, and every time he did, the boy had been watching him. It was a little disquieting.

"All right, Harry?" He asked when Harry looked at him, going bright red. "I'm - I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "Do you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" he asked, raising his camera.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," Colin said eagerly, stepping closer to him. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and -"

"Sorry," Harry interrupted him, turning to leave, "but I'm in a hurry. I have Quidditch practice."

"Oh, wow! Can I go with you? I've never watched a Quidditch game before!" And without waiting for an answer, Colin joined him.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" He asked, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is? I don't really understand Quidditch. Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," Harry answered, and took it upon himself to explain the rules of Quidditch, grateful for the excuse to avoid Colin's morning enthusiasm. He knew exactly what Ginny had meant.

When they got to the pitch, Colin headed to the stands and Harry to the changing rooms, where Wood was waiting, beaming like a Christmas tree.

"I have great news, team!" He said. "Apparently, the school has had a donation and so we all now have Nimbus 2000s at our disposal to train on and to fly in matches!"

There was considerable excitement. "Is it just us," Angelina asked after a moment, "or do other teams get this too?"

"I'm not sure," Wood admitted. "I guess we'll have to see."

He then treated them to an extremely complicated lecture on this year's strategy. It didn't make much sense to Harry, and he thought that he really should have recommended Ron to Oliver as someone to consult. But maybe the problem was only that his brain hadn't woken up yet.

When Oliver was finally done and they got to the pitch, Harry saw Neville and Ron waiting there for him, with toasts in their hands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the food. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

He got on his broom and kicked off, very glad to be finally in the air, racing Fred and George around the pitch.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" Fred asked when they flew closer to the stands.

Harry looked. Colin was sitting there, his camera in his hands, busily taking pictures. "Look this way, Harry! This way!" he called. Harry groaned.

"Who's that?" Asked Fred.

"A new Gryffindor first-year," Harry replied. "He's a bit...over-enthusiastic."

"What's going on?" Oliver asked, flying towards them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"Harry says he's a Gryffindor," Fred answered.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," George added.

"What makes you say that?" Wood asked, sounding a little irritated.

"Because they're here in person," George replied and pointed. And sure enough, there was the Slytherin team, walking from their changing rooms to the pitch.

"I don't believe it!" Oliver hissed angrily. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

He landed, Harry, Fred and George behind him. "Flint!" He shouted at the boy. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood," Marcus replied. Harry rolled his eyes. Marcus knew perfectly well neither team would be willing to train with the other present.

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie came over to watch as well. The Slytherin team was standing against them, shoulder to shoulder, clearly in a confrontational mood. They were each also holding a Nimbus 2001, a brand new broom. Harry sighed. Of course, only the best for Slytherin.

"But I booked the field!" said Oliver, getting only more angry as time passed. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Marcus. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'. "

"You've got a new Seeker? Where?" Harry interrupted, curious.

And from behind the other players emerged – Draco!

Harry laughed in delight. "So this is what you've been whispering about with Marcus at IQT!" He said. "This was the secret! It's awesome, congratulations."

Draco smirked. "Thanks," he said. "And sorry about the inconvenience with the pitch," he added, not sounding sorry at all.

Harry rolled his eyes at him. "It just wouldn't be like you, not being dramatic."

"To be fair, it's not like we did it on purpose," Draco replied. "Wood booked the pitch from five AM till lunch, and the Ravenclaws have it in the afternoon. And we do need to train."

"So do we," Oliver said, irritated.

Draco raised his eyebrows at him. "Well, yes. That's why we were told to come only at nine. You had all those hours before."

"It's barely eight," Oliver argued, still irritated.

"Why, yes," Marcus said, smirking, "we might have come a little earlier."

Harry was getting a little tired of rolling his eyes this morning. "Come on," he said, to the two Slytherin players he knew, "give us that hour and go talk in the changing rooms or something. You wouldn't want us to hang around for your practice, would you?"

Marcus looked like he wanted to argue with Oliver, chiefly because he liked winding the other boy up, in Harry's opinion, but Draco smirked again and said: "Don't get all solemn. It's way too much fun tweaking your fingers," confirming Harry's hypothesis, and the team retreated again, giving the Gryffindors their hour.

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His mind fully preoccupied with Lucius' possibly sinister plans with the diary and the newly pressing needs of lobbying for the Muggle Rights law proposed by the Muggle Research Institute, Alduin didn't react exactly well when Tobby came to tell him that Jonathan Crouch was there to see him. Nevertheless, he made himself leave his study and go downstairs, to confront the man head on.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said as soon as Alduin entered.

Alduin stopped, and looked at him.

"I just wanted you and my sister to finally be able to talk to each other freely. It seemed a pity..."

"And you didn't think it was our decision when the meeting should take place?" Alduin asked coolly.

"I realize that now, and I am sorry." He paused. "Eliza talked to me, after she visited here."

"Yes, I rather thought she might have." There was no way Jonathan was self-aware enough to figure this out on his own.

"She...explained the problem. I truly didn't realize, and I'm sorry."

"Didn't you consult the matter with your parents, or your wife?" Alduin kept pressing him.

"My parents left it up to me, saying that I knew you better. Ginevra...didn't agree with me, but..."

Alduin raised his eyebrow. "Are you a Muggle, to discount your wife's opinion because you're a man? Did it perhaps occur to you that out of the two of you, Ginevra knew me better? In fact, she might actually know Eliza better as well..."

Jonathan grimaced. "Please, don't. I made a mistake, I realize it now, and I'm sorry."

"Very well then. Apology accepted."

Jonathan hesitated for a moment. "You don't sound very...cordial."

"Should I?" Alduin asked archly. "We'll ask you over some time next week, I'll have to discuss the date with Alexandra. Until then, Jonathan."

The older man left, seeming dissatisfied with the conversation. Well, that made two of them.

Alduin pointedly did not have a drink to wash away his irritation, though he desperately wished he could, and went back to work.


	59. Half-bloods and Murmurs

Training with Maurice, as it turned out, was...okay. Just okay. It was supposed to be an hour every Sunday, but it ended up being more like three quarters of one, since Maurice usually came a bit late and ended the lesson a bit early. He also didn't seem to be as into it as Alduin was. But it wasn't terrible, and Harry supposed it kept his hand in well enough.

The rest of the school year was going okay, too. Harry found that this year, there were two more people he needed to avoid in the school corridors, beside the usual Filch and Peeves: Colin Creevey and Lockhart.

Colin seemed to have an obsessive need to take pictures of him, or at least to shout greetings to him across a corridor full of people or half the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Lockhart, in his turn, seemed desirous of discussing Harry's popularity with him ever since that article in the Prophet. He took to going to his desk after class, and asking him questions about Alduin's plans and whether his reluctance to speak to the media was, in his opinion, a viable strategy. Harry had no idea what to answer and so he usually just stood there, feeling awkward, until one of the other Gryffindors rescued him by pointing out that they really needed to get to the next class. Tuesdays were hellish, though – Defence was their last class of the day, and so there was no readily available excuse. Harry had already spent two hours there once, only Neville remaining bravely by his side, and it was dinner what rescued him.

There was probably nothing to be done about Lockhart – though Alduin kept hinting, in his letters, that he'll certainly not allow for a teacher who harassed him so much to remain the whole year. About Colin, though...after a few weeks of this, Harry approached Ginny Weasley as she was sitting alone in the common room, doing her homework.

"Hey," he said. "May I sit down?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied. "What is it?"

"Well, Colin's in your year, right?"

"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Well, do you think you could tell him to tone it down a little? I mean...he's getting really unbearable."

Ginny sighed. "Do you think he's less overenthusiastic to us? I told you he was insufferable. I tried telling him already, but it's pointless."

Sophie entered the common room in that moment, and spotting Harry, headed towards them. "Hey, Harry," she said, "where's everyone?"

"Neville's in the library, looking for some book on Herbology or other. The rest, I have no clue."

"With Ron, I'd bet sleeping or eating – or playing chess, since it's too dark for Quidditch," Ginny said, and Sophie giggled.

"Well it's after dinner and to early to sleep," she said, "so I bet it's chess. Good for him, means he found someone to play with him and will stop badgering me."

"Tell me about it. The years when the twins were at school but he was still at home, it was all the time."

"Don't you like chess?" Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Don't have the head for it," she said.

"Neither do I," Sophie agreed. "Or maybe I would have if I cared more about the game, but it's just so damn boring! My step-dad tried to teach me even before I went to Hogwarts, but...no."

"So Muggles play chess as well?" Ginny asked, surprised. "But I mean, the figures are charmed, so how can they…?"

Sophie started to explain, and Harry, who just noticed Ron and Neville coming in, excused himself and left them there to go see where his friends have been.

He kept thinking about Ginny and Sophie, though. He had been seeing them together a lot since the school year started, and it took him a while to realize why it seemed so strange. But now he had it. It was the first time he saw Sophie spending any amount of time with a girl.

He used the next chance he spoke to her without Ginny to ask about it. Sophie she just shrugged. "Ginny is an only girl with a lot of brothers, like me," she said. "I think we have a lot in common."

Harry supposed that made sense. "So Parvati and Lavender don't have any brothers?" He asked. He didn't recall them mentioning any, but that might not mean anything.

Sophie thought about it. "Do you know that I'm not sure?" She said. "But I'd guess not. I can't imagine how they'd survive if they did," she added under her breath. Harry wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and Sophie didn't look like she was about to explain, so he simply shrugged it off.

He was happy that Ginny had found a friend at Hogwarts, anyway, since Ron tended to roll his eyes whenever she joined them. She didn't seem to mind too much, but still, Harry supposed it must be irritating.

He was even more glad he had the mirror to communicate than he had been last year, not only because he could contact Alduin in cases like the pixies disaster – though Lockhart had stuck to reading from his books in classes ever since then, and having Harry play act certain parts, to his horror – but because he could actually see Wynn, and watch him growing. The boy had managed sitting without support by the end of September, and when Alduin propped the mirror in front of his son for Harry to see, Wynn tried, every time without fault, to reach for his cousin behind the glass, and usually toppled over, which was sometimes accompanied by crying. "He will learn one day," Alexandra had said with a laugh the last time they conversed, before taking her son into her arms.

She'd been laughing less than was usual for her lately, and Alduin explained that was because Wynn was now teething, which meant less sleep and more crying. Apparently, being a parent was very exhausting!

Another new thing this year was Pansy trying to make peace with him without actually apologizing, something Harry was determined not to give in to. Besides, it was very amusing watching her to do her best to try and be kind. Perhaps she would get into the habit? Harry tried not to get his hopes up, especially as Draco told him that there were no signs of her being any kinder outside of Harry's presence.

Harry also hadn't forgotten about his mission of finding the mysterious diary, but he had had no luck so far. He and his fellow Gryffindors had carefully studied the books on desks of every student in all of their classes, and every little book anyone took out in the Common Room, library or Great Hall, and 'accidentally' kicked over bags of several students considered likely candidates to be able to help them gather their things and use the opportunity to look through them.

Snape, too, had been doing a lot of random searches for contraband in classes lately, and Harry wondered whether Alduin had told him about the situation.

But still, as far as he knew, nothing.

Nothing until the moment Sophie ran down the stairs to the girls' dormitories one evening, grabbed Neville, Harry and Ron and literally dragged them out. "Parvati and Lavender," she said, "have a magical diary."

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Or I should say Parvati has one, really, but she shared it with Lavender and shows it to her. They kept it from me, but I came up on them unexpectedly and they didn't manage to hide it, and they tried denying they were doing something, and I...well, I guess they could see I was kinda upset about that, and so Parvati relented and said it was a magical diary...it wrote back to them and everything, and she said it can even show them things."

"Do you think it can be…?" Harry whispered, and Neville nodded very gravely.

Harry took out his multi-way mirror, and called Alduin immediately.

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In addition to everything else on his plate, Alduin was currently fighting the feeling of guilt. Even more of it, that was, than what was usual for him.

It had been his encouragement – no, his direct invitation - that made Anil Patil found the Muggle Research Institute, after all. It was he who had painted a big target on Anil's forehead, or rather, on his daughter's. Of course, he never expected there could be retaliation of this sort in the cards, but still. He was the one who knew the relevant players. If someone should have predicted the resistance against the idea of the Institute could turn violent, it should have been him. Certainly not Anil, who usually did his best to stay out of the Ancient Houses dramatics in spite of his sister marrying into one, and who tended to mind his own business. And now his daughter had been targeted in response.

Lucius didn't want to go against Alduin, certainly not at this point. It was too risky. Alduin had spent the last two years diligently accumulating political capital, and he had had a very good starting position. He was a young war hero, pitied for his years of coma, his lost family and lost love, popular because of his wedding and small child, and the fact that he was Harry Potter's guardian. In eyes of the public, at the moment, he could do no wrong. And as for the Noble families, he managed to renew his old friendships and ties, and especially his two great-aunts from his father's side had ensured that he was connected by blood relations to most relevant Ravenclaw families. Harry guaranteed his ties to the Gryffindor ones. Also, his nine years of coma when he had been only gaining, not loosing, money, led to a significant increase of his wealth, and he was even now adding to it – it was, after all, cheaper to run a house with only three or four people than one like the Burke Manor, where eleven people lived at the moment, and all of them needed to be maintained in style.

Lucius, on the other hand, while still being certainly the richest head of an Ancient family – having to support only three people helped _him_ as well – and the one with the most influence at the Ministry, had many things going against him. A number of wizards were afraid of him, which on one hand made them reluctant to go directly against him, but on the other, made them very unenthusiastic about any close ties as well. He had no loyalty, except perhaps from the Crabbes and Goyles. The ex-Death Eaters stuck together in a way, but chiefly because they had too much blackmail material on each other. The rest of polite society kept their distance, in small but significant ways. Why, just a few days ago, Alduin had witnessed Perpetua Burke shooing her children away from Narcissa Malfoy on some transparently made-up excuse when she judged they had spent too much time with her. Perpetua Burke, whose own mother-in-law was Narcissa's aunt! Narcissa bore it with perfect poise, of course, as always, but nevertheless, it was significant.

Lucius owed Alduin in this, too, for encouraging Harry's friendship with Draco. That might have been an additional reason why the man didn't go against him directly. He chose to attack Anil's family instead, and hope to discredit the entire Institute that way, and so make them lose any chance to pass the laws Alduin had spent so long lobbying for.

But Lucius had miscalculated, had relied on the loyalty of his house elf overmuch, and if Alduin could only get his hands on the diary...well, then one of his main goals ever since he woke from that coma would be over and done with.

Alduin briefly considered Floo-calling Dumbledore, but the same thing that had stalled his hand until now did so again. He was not entirely certain that Dumbledore was safe from the Ravenclaw dangers he had warned Harry against. He might wish to find and open the Chamber with the hopes of studying it. He might want to use it a some kind of trap for Riddle, or whatever his misguided reasoning had been last year. He had proven in the past that he was entirely willing to risk student lives. Alduin had been ready to turn to him if there was no progress in the search before Halloween, or if there were signs of acute danger, but Harry outdid himself once again and it seemed it would just be a matter of time now until he got his hands on the diary. So no, if possible, he would leave Dumbledore out of it once again.

However, it was time to contact Severus Snape once more.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of his fireplace, the professor scowled when he heard Alduin's news. "If I'm still not to tell Dumbledore – and I'm not saying that I disagree with your reasoning – that what do you expect of me?"

"If you could find an innocuous way to look through Parvati Patil's things again, it would be great, though I believe she keeps the diary in her dormitory. Chiefly, I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on her mental state. If you see a marked shift, we would need to act more quickly."

Snape merely nodded. "It is an interesting choice," he said then in a slightly mocking drawl, "to trust this to the Head of Slytherin. The search I could understand – there was, after all, a slightly bigger chance that the diary would be found on one of my students, and you don¨t have access to the school yourself. But telling me the identity of the Gryffindor in question, and potentially giving me quite an opportunity to find the diary..."

Alduin shrugged. "When it comes to those at Hogwarts who can be absolutely trusted no to be on Riddle's side, it's between you and Dumbledore – and McGonnagal, I suppose, but she would never agree to keep this quiet – and I trust you more than I trust him. It's that simple."

"Indeed," Snape muttered, his voice perfectly neutral.

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Harry and his friends had been instructed to try and steal the diary for a moment, to check whether it really was the one in question. But this was a thing easier said than done.

First, Sophie had to observe very carefully to find out where Parvati kept it, unless she wanted to ruffle through all of the other girl's stuff and draw attention to herself. Then they would need to ensure that neither Parvati nor Lavender were in the dormitory when they took the diary, but they'd cross that bridge when the came to it. For now, they were biding their time.

But they waited for Sophie to spot the hiding place, another very strange thing happened. Harry and his friends went to the library after dinner to do some last-minute work on a homework due the next day, and as they were returning to the Gryffindor tower just before curfew, Harry suddenly stopped. "Wait!" He said. "What is it?"

"What is what?" Ron asked.

"The voice!"

"I don't hear anything," Neville muttered.

But Harry did. "Come… come to me… Let me rip you.. .Let me tear you.. .Let me kill you…" a voice murmured, a voice so cold that Harry had never heard such a thing in his life - except from Riddle a year ago.

"It was right here!" He cried.

Ron gave him a strange look. "No it wasn't," he said.

"Maybe we just didn't hear it," Neville pointed out. "What did it say?"

Harry shuddered. "That it wanted to kill someone. It sounded like it meant it, too."

Now Neville looked worried. "Do you think it could be the monster from the chamber?" He asked.

"I don't think it talks, do you?" Harry shuddered once again. "Let's get back to Gryffindor tower," he said. "I don't much fancy a walk in the corridors tonight."

Harry waited a little anxiously the next morning to see if there wouldn't be a report of someone being hurt, but all was calm. However, he'd penned a letter to Alduin detailing the evens last night, and during breakfast, as he had half-expected, he could feel the mirror burning in his pocket.

"Harry," Alduin said very urgently as soon as Harry removed himself to somewhere with less people around, "you need to get the diary as soon as possible."

"You think the voice is related…?" Harry asked, confused. Had Neville been right? "But, I mean, I thought the monster was supposed to be a...well, a beast? They can't talk, can they?"

Alduin rubbed his eyes. "Harry, can you get privacy, please? Complete privacy?"

Casting an apologetic look at his friends, Harry left them standing in the corridor where they'd followed him and found an empty classroom. "So, Harry," Alduin spoke again, "what is the coat of arms animal of Slytherin?"

"Er, a snake?" Harry replied, confused by the seeming non-sequitur.

"Yes. And what skill did Alexandra tell you Salazar Slytherin had?"

"He was a parselmouth." Harry remembered that very well, given his own skill in the area.

"Very good," Alduin nodded patiently. "So, what do you think could be the monster in the chamber?"

Harry's eyes widened. "...you think it's a snake?"

"What did _you_ think? A puffeskin?"

Harry blushed. "But, I mean, aren't snakes too small?"

"Some snakes, Harry. Some, on the other hand, are decidedly big enough."

"Okay, so it's a snake, how does it...wait. Wait. You think what I heard in the corridor was actually parseltongue, don't you? That's why no one else noticed, they just heard hissing."

"Very good, Harry. You can return to your friends now, but please, please make haste with the diary."

As luck would have it, Lavender and Parvati had a bitter argument only two days later, and Parvati was so upset she wasn't quite as careful when she took out her diary. Sophie saw her, and the following day, Ron and Neville drew girls-watching duty in the Great Hall while Harry, Sophie, Dean and Seamus skipped lunch to stay in the common room, and waited for Sophie to bring them the coveted book.


	60. The chamber of secrets

AN: Trigger warning for characters expressing extremely racist views against Muggle-Borns. It's in a memory, so you'll know where to skip.

Oh, and there are also some likes taken directly from Chamber of Secrets at the end, to give credit where credit is due.

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Sophie ran down the stairs from the girls' dormitory with Parvati's diary, and the present second-years all gathered around it. Harry opened it ceremoniously, to see the name T.M. Riddle written on the first page. He recoiled. „It's the one we wanted," he said.

"All right," Sophie said, all business-like. "Let's see what it does."

"Sophie! We can't, it's too dangerous."

"Come on, Harry, Parvati had it for over a month!" And before he could protest, Sophie took it from his hands and opened it. It was blank. "Well," she muttered. "That's a disappointment."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Magic, remember?" He said. "I'm sure there's a way to make it show things. What did you see the girls doing with it?"

"Just writing..."

"We can do that," Dean decided and took out his ink and quill.

Harry, though having a bad feeling about it, was unable to stop them. He was too curious. Surely a little writing would do no harm?

"Hello," Dean wrote on the first page and paused, thinking about what to do next.

The ink disappeared.

"Hello," the diary wrote back.

Seamus jumped a little, and Harry stared. He did not recall ever seeing anything like this. Every time he thought he knew everything about the world of magic, it surprised him again.

"What are you?" Dean asked almost immediately, though his hand was shaking a little.

"Not what, but who," the diary replied. "My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?"

At this point, Harry woke out of his surprised trance and snatched the diary out of Dean's hands, closing it. "We're not having a chat with Riddle," he declared. "I'm calling Alduin."

"You're no fun," Sophie muttered.

"Did you forget the part about the diary being able to make you do things?" Seamus asked incredulously.

Alduin, after being informed, curtly ordered Harry and his friends to meet him at the Hogwarts gates. He closed the connection before Harry could ask how he intended to open them, and so they all shrugged and gathered their cloaks and hats and headed out.

The answer to the question presented itself when they met Snape at the gates, already opening them for Alduin.

"Thank you," the younger man muttered, and extended his hand towards Harry, who handed him the diary. Alduin put it in his inside pocket, nodded at Harry and said: "Sorry this was so brief. I'll call later, Harry, but right now, this needs to get off the school grounds as soon as possible. And keep an eye on Parvati. I don¨t know what spells exactly are on this, but she might not be quite well for a few weeks."

He nodded to all of them, passed through the gates again, and disapparated.

Snape gave them all a neutral look as he closed the gates and walked back to the castle in a quick pace. The students followed behind him much more slowly.

"That was it?" Sophie expressed all of their feelings.

"I do feel a little disappointed," Harry admitted, "but I suppose it was for the best."

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Meanwhile, Alduin had Apparated home and headed straight to the laboratory Miss Brigit had built in her day – and, incidentally, in which she died. It had been used for all experimental spells since, being well isolated from the rest of the manor, and Alduin now put the diary in the middle of that room and started to cast all manner of diagnostic spells on it.

What he found alarmed him deeply.

He had expected some sort of strong compulsion charm on it, but it was, instead, fairly glowing with dark magic. It was worse than anything he'd ever seen, and during some of his transcendental experiments, he had seen some truly strange things.

Putting on dragon hide gloves, even though he knew Anil's daughter had it for a long time and was still sane and alive, he opened it and conjured a quill and ink.

"Thursday, 22nd October," he wrote, and watched the letters disappear. Nothing happened.

"I had a strange day today," he wrote, and this time, after a moment, he got the answer: "In what way?"

"Dibby!" Alduin called, and when his personal elf appeared, he said: "Stay here and watch, and if you think anything wrong is happening, call Alexandra."

Dibby nodded, and watched carefully as Alduin replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Tom Riddle. I take it you're not Miss Patil, then?"

"No indeed." Alduin hesitated for a moment, then wrote. "I'm Lucius Malfoy."

"Malfoy? Not, perhaps, a grandson of my good friend Abraxas?"

Another small hesitation, then: "Yes."

"Then it's lovely to meet you! How did you come to my diary?"

"I found it," was the evasive answer.

"Ah. Well, then, allow me to introduce myself properly."

The diary pages turned into a small screen, and what looked like a displayer scene was on the other side. "Dibby," Alduin said, turning to his elf, "if I don't emerge within...fifteen minutes, go fetch Alexandra and tell her I'm stuck in a memory. She will know what to do."

The elf nodded again, looking anxious now, and Alduin pressed his eye to the page.

He was standing in what he presumed must have been the Slytherin common room, all green and silver and under the lake, and before him was a handsome boy of about sixteen. Riddle, he realised. He had seen the old photos, but still, this was different. Much more real. The boy walked towards a couch, on which another easily recognizable young man was lounging. The pale face, silver-blond hair and light grey eyes would have betrayed him as a Malfoy in any case, but Alduin remembered Abraxas and, though he had been much older then, he was still identifiable.

"Any success?" Malfoy asked.

Riddle smirked. "Of course," he said. "That disgusting mongrel will not pollute the grounds of this school any more – and I'm to get an award for special services to the school, Dippet said."

Abraxas openly grinned. "Well," he said, "that calls for a celebration!" He produced a bottle of firewhisky from somewhere, and poured two shots into conjured glasses.

"It's a shame you won't be able to do away with any more of the mudbloods," he commented.

"Not right now," Riddle amended, "but trust me, I have plans."

Abraxas grinned. "You always have plans, Tom." His grin widened. "If you had to limit yourself to one this time, I have to say you certainly chose well. That Warren was a whiny bitch."

Riddle shrugged. "They all are. I honestly have trouble differentiating between them."

Abraxas shook his head. "It's like rats," he said. "They're all disgusting, but the one that bites your toes irritates you the most."

It went on and on like this. Abraxas and Riddle sat and drank together, joking at the expense of Muggle-Born students in general and the dead Myrtle in particular. Other students joined them in time, many sitting on the ground at their feet as they listened worshipfully to what their elders were saying.

Alduin began to worry Dibby would be forced to call Alexandra when he was finally ejected. Once that happened, he gave the book an intent look, considering all he had just experienced.

At first he had suspected the book was intended to come to a Malfoy heir, but it made no sense. Why would Lucius simply not give it to Draco? Or if he didn't know, why would Riddle not tell him? Why go such a roundabout way? Even putting in a "just in case" trigger for the chance that it was randomly discovered by a Malfoy seemed unlikely and overwrought, when it was something given to Lucius for safekeeping in the first place. Besdies, if the purpose of the book was opening the Chamber, why do such things in the first place? It did not need to garner sympathy for Riddle, and it was hardly efficient to try and combine the two goals...

No, Alduin was starting to fear this diary was something much worse than he'd suspected, but he needed to verify first, before he started to panic.

"That was very interesting," he wrote. "I never knew my grandfather had a friend named Tom Riddle at school."

It took a moment for the diary to reply this time. "Ah, well, he might have mentioned me under a different name," it finally wrote. "Many people get nicknames at school. I'm sure that if you asked him, he'd confirm my identity."

"My grandfather is dead," Alduin immediately replied, curious.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," came the answer. "He was a great man and an excellent friend. Please accept my condolences. What happened?"

"He was poisoned, but it was never discovered who did it."

"Oh. I wish I could help you with that. Such a thing shouldn't go unpunished. It seems you have no one to confirm my story then, but surely the memory is enough?"

"Yes, I believe you. It's great having a link to my dead grandfather like this, and I hope you'll show me more memories later. But, listen, this is kind of embarrassing, but it's been really bothering me lately and you seemed very confident and popular in the memory, so...can I ask you for help with something?"

"Of course. I'll gladly do anything for my friend Abraxas' grandson."

"Well, there is this girl I'd like to ask out..."

"Ah. Well, I would think the Malfoy charm should do the trick, but if you require more..."

Here, a number of dating advices spilled across the page, but Alduin didn't read them. Part of him was morbidly curious to see what Voldemort thought was the way to court women, but there were bigger matters to deal with. "Listen," he wrote, interrupting the diary, "someone's coming, I'll have to end this conversation. I'll be back later."

He closed the diary, then, and stared off into the distance.

There was no way a mere memory receptacle could have managed that conversation. He had purposefully deviated from anything that could possibly be considered an expected topic for a diary meant to instruct people to open the Chamber of Secrets, and the book never even missed a beat. Combined with all the dark magic that was radiating from is, there was one very real possibility, and it made Alduin's insides clench in fear.

Because this diary was almost certainly a Horcrux, and if it was a Horcrux and Riddle went to James' house to make a Horcrux...that meant he had more than one. And if there were two..well, who was to say there weren't three, or even more? Alduin rubbed his eyes. Why could nothing ever be easy? He would need to call his transcendental friends once more.

There was one other thing, though. Abdullah had been telling him for months that he should tell Alexandra about the Horcruxes. Alduin agreed with him, really. The only problem was that he knew such a conversation would eb upsetting for him, bringing it all back to the forefront of his mind, and so he wanted to avoid it until he was sure he was feeling better.

But now, here, was the final confirmation that Riddle truly did have horcruxes, so any excuse that perhaps it wasn't true went out of the window. And Abdullah was right that since Alexandra knew there was something Alduin wasn't telling her, the longer he waited, the more she would feel like he did not trust her. And trust, Abdullah had said, was crucial in a marriage.

Alduin thought a little resentfully that it was all so much easier for him. He and Isobel had been a love match and started dating in their fifth year, inseparable since then. And they'd been friends before that, for years, ever since they were little. It was easy to trust someone like that.

Still, he didn't distrust Alexandra, not really, and he was just looking for excuses. Discussing the prophecy with her had been beneficial, he had to admit that. So he pushed all his worries and fears into the back of his mind, and went to find her.

She took the news that Riddle had Horcruxes in stride. She hadn't been sure such a thing actually existed, but wasn't surprised by it, and commented that making more than one was, all in all, a logical thing to do.

Her reaction to the discovery that Harry was one, on the other hand, was quite different. "Is Harry in danger?" She asked.

"Well, certainly, in many ways, but..."

"No, I mean from the Horcrux. Can it possess him?"

The question took Alduin aback. "I don't think so..." he said. "Mrs. Gerard certainly never mentioned anything of the sort."

"You should bloody well make sure," she replied, making it probably the first time he heard her swear. "If there's a person in danger of being possessed in the same house as my son, I'd rather know."

Alduin bristled. "I won't treat Harry like a time-bomb, not even out of regard for Wynn I won't."

"That's not what I meant," she retorted, giving him a sharp look. "It'd hardly be pleasant for Harry either. If there's this danger, we have to do our best to help him and protect him from it, for both of the boys' sake. But possession is usually more dangerous to those around than to the possessed, at least in the first stage. And Wynn is the most vulnerable of us. We both could handle a possessed Harry, probably. Wynn couldn't, and Harry spends a lot of time with him, alone. That's why we need to know."

Alduin looked away, ashamed of himself. Of course she was right. Where was his famed rationality, he wondered, when he needed it the most?

-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-

Over at Hogwarts, after classes, most of second-year Gryffindors were gathered in the boys' dormitory, explaining the diary to Neville and Ron.

"You actually wrote into it?" Neville looked half horrified, half amazed.

"Only very little," Sophie said, sounding disappointed. "Harry had to run to his cousin like always."

"Will you stop saying that?" Ron asked her, irritated. "It's not like his cousin ever did anything wrong."

"He takes all the fun out of it!"

"This isn't fun!" Harry said, frustrated. "Riddle killed people – so many people – he killedmy parents, how can you think it's fun?"

Sophie looked mildly chastised. "I wouldn't say it if we were dealing with actual Riddle," she muttered. "But, I mean, it was just his diary..."

"We don't even know what it did, it could have been extremely dangerous!"

"Parvati had it for months! She said she got it in the middle of the summer!"

"Look," Dean said in a reasonable voice, "I was a little disappointed we didn't learn more about it either, but they're probably right. It really was risky."

"You're both crazy," Seamus muttered. "Why would you even – I was conflicted enough about us even opening it, why would you want to write inside?"

Harry was quickly growing frustrated by the discussion. He was worried, his mind kept going to Alduin, and he had no patience for his friends' silly ideas. He got up abruptly and left the room and Gryffindor tower, wanting to clear his head.

The weather was surprisingly decent for the time of the year, so he headed out to the grounds, to Hagrid's. There, he found a warm welcome.

"Harry!" The groundskeeper said. "I'm happy to see yeh - but where are Neville an' Ron?"

"In the castle," Harry replied as he came in and tried to deal with Fang jumping him in joy. "I needed to clear my head."

Hagrid gave him a look over Fang's head. "Yeh argued?"

"No! Not with them, anyway," Harry amended, finally managing to push the dog away and sit down at the table. "Some of my friends are being a little silly, I guess."

"And since when do yeh mind a bit o' silliness so much?" Hagrid asked from where he was busy with the kettle, rutning over his shoulder to look at Harry.

Harry shook his head. He knew he couldn't explain.

"All right," Hagrid conceded, "we can talk about somethin' else. How're classes this year so far?"

Harry nodded gratefully and settled more comfortably into his chair. "Pretty much the same as last year, though more Potions is never a good thing, and Defence is probably worse that Quirrel's, too. Lockhart is dreadful."

Hagrid scoffed as he put cups on the table. "Can't disagree with you here. He's been givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well. Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

Harry laughed. "Why do you think Dumbledore lets him teach here?" He asked.

"He was the on'y man for the job," Hagrid replied. "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now."

"I knew that," Harry admitted, "but I didn't know it was this bad. Really the only one?"

"Yeah. It's clear Dumbledore's desperate. A few more years, and he might have to cancel the class."

"Cancel Defense?" Harry asked, alarmed. If Riddle was to return when no one knew how to defend themselves…

"What can he do?" Hagrid asked. "But enough o' this gloom. Come an' see what I've bin growin' while the tea cools."

Curious, Harry followed him behind the house, where Hagrid pointed proudly to enormous pumpkins, reaching at least Harry's waist.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" Hagrid asked. "Fer the Halloween feast… should be big enough by then."

"What have you been feeding them?" Harry questioned curiously.

Hagrid shifted his feet and mumbled something incomprehensible. Harry raised his eyebrows. Well, whatever it was, it was unlikely to be as dangerous as the dragon last year, so he decided to let it be. The thought of dragon-eating pumpkins distracted him from his worries about Alduin and the diary at least a little, though.


End file.
